Slipping Through My Fingers
by Maxie Kay
Summary: All change: Sam & Callen face impending fatherhood, while Kensi & Deeks try to plan their wedding. Events force Callen right up to the edge & only get worse when Nell is implicated. Can even Hetty save her team from falling apart? Slight x-over with NCIS.
1. Chapter 1

**Slipping Through My Fingers**

**An NCIS: Los Angeles Fanfiction**

**By**

**Maxie Kay**

* * *

><p><em>This is the eighth story in my KD universe, which I describe as slightly AU. The series starts with __**Personal Questions **__and the themes originally disclosed in that story are developed in each of the subsequent ones. __Full details of the stories and the reading order can be found on my profile page._

_This story begins immediately after __**Never Going Back Again**__ ends, after the capture of Nicole Martindale, who had kidnapped Deeks and DiNozzo for her own nefarious purposes. The NCIS: LA team are on their way back to the Mission when Hetty reaches a startling conclusion…_

* * *

><p>"I don't suppose there's a possibility you could be pregnant, is there?" Hetty looked at their stunned faces as Kensi frantically began to calculate dates in her mind and then resorted to counting on her fingers. "Oh heavens to Betsy! You have been taking precautions, haven't you?"<p>

"Not exactly," Marty said slowly and a smile crept across his face. "Not at all, actually. It's a good thing we're already engaged. All we've got to do now is set a date for the wedding." _Oh my God, we're going to have a baby. Isn't that amazing?_

"There might be one or two other things we have to do," Kensi cautioned. _Like reconcile my mother to the fact she's going to have an NCIS agent for a son-in-law for starters. Not to mention the fact that she's not going to be overjoyed at having a pregnant daughter walking down the aisle._

"How much can there be to do? It's only a wedding. We invite a few people, talk to the priest, buy loads of champagne. I don't know why people make so much fuss about it. It's just another party, apart from the whole sacrament business."

"Yeah, about that. Maybe we need to talk about that?"

"What's there to talk about? I'm Catholic, you don't exactly have a faith but you do believe – so what's the problem?"

"My mother."

Marty suppressed a groan. "She's got a problem with Catholics?" he asked, trying hard not to sound surprised. Deep down he knew that whatever faith he professed, Allison Blye would have a problem. Just as she'd have a problem if he didn't have any faith at all. Basically, she just had a problem with him. Period. And it was taking all his strength not to reciprocate the feeling. "How about we leave all that for the moment, and just concentrate on the baby?" he suggested. They could talk about the finer details later on. But it was really important to him to have Father Crerar perfom the marriage – the priest was elderly now, but he'd baptised him, heard his first confession and prepared him for confirmation. Heck, one of his first duties in the parish had been to officiate at the wedding of Jack and Maryanne Brandel. Marty knew he wouldn't feel married unless it was Father John who took the ceremony.

"I'm not even sure there is a baby," Kensi protested. _Please, please let me be pregnant. Please._

"But there could be? You could be pregnant, right?" It was impossible to miss the joy and excitement in his voice. _I'm going to be a daddy!_

"And I could just be late. It does happen, you know." She was trying so very hard to stay calm about it all, not to hope too much. _I feel pregnant. I think._

"You're never late," Marty said confidently. "You've got this text-book 28 day cycle."

Up until this point, Callen had tried very hard to pretend he wasn't listening, but that had just gone where no public conversation should go. There were some things you really didn't need to know about your work colleagues, and this was definitely one of them. "Too much information, guys," he said warningly. "Way too much information."

Hetty gave him a disapproving look. "I never figured you for a prude, Mr Callen. The female reproductive cycle is perfectly natural, you know."

"So is botulism, but I don't want to talk about that either." _Kensi – pregnant? I can't imagine that. Pregnant women's hormones go into overdrive, don't they? I'm not sure I'd want to be in Deeks' shoes when that happens. She's kind of volatile at the best of times._

"Can we all just stop talking about my body and what it may or may not be doing?" Kensi pleaded. "It's like I'm not here or something."

"You'd better get used to it, my dear," Hetty advised her knowingly. "Because if you are pregnant, you're going to have all sorts of people asking you intimate questions and looking at parts of you that are normally hidden away." _Oh my giddy aunt – if she is pregnant, that means I'll be a great, great aunt. How can that be possible? To think that in nine months time I could be holding Marty's baby in my arms… isn't life wonderful?_

"They're not hidden all the time though, are they? That's how you got into this position in the first place," Marty whispered and Kensi could feel her cheeks glowing red.

"Let's get back to talking about the wedding, shall we?" Callen felt on much safer ground here. "You've got lots to decide on. Maybe you should get a wedding planner."

"What for?" Marty looked incredulous. "Why on earth would we need a wedding planner?"

"To plan the wedding?" Sometimes Callen felt very sorry for whatever poor benighted female had been entrusted with the early education of little Marty Deeks – or Mikey Brandel, as he'd been in those days. He could just see her tearing her hair out as he sat blandly asking stupid question after stupid question, and probably managing to look misleadingly angelic into the bargain.

"Apart from the actual service, it's just another party. Okay, maybe we hire caterers, get a marquee, arrange for a band even, – but it's no big deal." _I don't know who women make such a fuss about these things._

"There's a bit more to it than that," Kensi said. "Like where we have it for starters." _Only a man could think you can organise a wedding in a couple of days._

Marty gave her a blank look. "What are you talking about? We said we wanted to get married on the beach, remember? And then we can have the reception back at the house." He leant back in the seat with an expression that read "sorted".

"I think my mom might want me to get married from her house."

"In Pendleton?" Marty's voice went up at least an octave and he looked completely horrified.

_Yup, I was right. That went down about as well as I expected. It was almost as popular as a fart in an elevator. Oh jeez – if I am pregnant, I'm going to have to start watching what I'm saying. Or thinking. Can a baby pick up on your thoughts? If so, this one's going to be sex-mad from the minute he or she comes out of the womb. _Kensi tried smiling winningly and squeezing his knee meaningfully, but it was to no avail.

"I'm not getting married at a Marine Base. No way."

"Parts of it are quite nice," she tried hopefully.

"It's still a Marine base. And that means it's full of people with bad haircuts and square jaws who go around saying "hoo rah" all day."

_Oh no. I recognise that stubborn set to his mouth. Time to bring out the big guns, I think._ "There is the added attraction of the beach. The "off limits to everyone except Marine personnel" beach," Kensi said slyly, knowing how much he'd always longed to surf there.

"Gibbs can get me onto that beach. And he doesn't insist I get married to him at some Marine camp first." _That wedding planner's sounding better by the second. With any luck, maybe he or she can arrange for Allison Blye to contract some unpleasantly contagious disease that means she has to stay in strict isolation for a couple of months? Nothing deadly, of course. That's probably asking for too much._

"You don't have to decide anything today," Hetty counselled. "You've lots of time. There's at least two weeks before you need to start making some definite arrangements."

"Two weeks?" Kensi sat bolt upright. "How can I plan my wedding day in two weeks? I've been dreaming about this since I was a little girl and I want it to be perfect."

Marty realised with considerable horror that she looked as if she was going to burst into tears. That settled it – this wasn't Kensi. She must be pregnant – there was no other reason for her behaviour. "You take a much time as you need. And we'll do whatever you want."

"I just want it all to be magical and special and like something out of a fairytale," Kensi sniffed and the tears began to trickle down her face. "I want it to be the happiest day of our lives." She was howling now, and Deeks looked like a man being led to the gallows, Callen thought. His own wedding day had been highly practical – a swift visit to the judge and they were in and out in five minutes. It hadn't been very romantic, but then neither had the marriage. It struck his that this was an ideal opportunity to pick up some pointers for when he broached the subject of marriage with Nico, at some point in the future. He certainly didn't want to be making all the mistakes Deeks was, after all.

"Whatever you want, you can have it," Marty promised rashly. "We can even get married at Camp Pendleton if it really means that much to you." _Or we could just tell Callen to keep on driving till we get to Vegas and head straight for one of those drive-through places. Father John would do us a blessing later on and we could throw a really big party. God, that sounds great. Pity she won't buy it though. Not in a million years._

Kensi smiled through her tears. "I think my hormones are starting to act up already."

_And it's only going to get worse._ _Heaven help us. I wonder if Gibbs would take me back to Washington with him? And Nico and I definitely have to find our own place as quickly as possible. It's going to be bad enough coping with this all day at work, but I'll go mad if I have to go home to it as well. How the hell does Sam deal with it? _Callen shook his head and tried to move through the midday traffic as speedily as possible. When he risked a look in the rear view mirror, he saw that they were sitting there, holding hands like a couple of kids on their way to the beach. It was actually rather endearing. _But heaven help any poor kid who has Deeks for a father._

* * *

><p><em>Reviews are really, really welcome!<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_Well, I was completely blown away by the response the first chapter of this story got from all my wonderful reviewers. Thank you al so very much. It's always a bit daunting starting a new story and not knowing if people will like it or not._

* * *

><p>By the time they arrived at the Mission, Kensi's tears had been mopped up, courtesy of a lace-trimmed handkerchief from Hetty, who was probably the last woman in LA to carry such things on a regular basis. "Keep it," she said kindly, when Kensi tried to return the rather soggy and crumpled piece of cotton. She had a feeling that hanky would be seeing rather a lot of use over the next nine months. But at least it solved the problem of what to get her female agent for Christmas. Hetty did like to be prepared for all eventualities, and Swiss lawn handkerchiefs were so much prettier than the nasty paper versions. In fact, she was almost certain that she had a box tucked away, awaiting just such an eventuality. Maybe she should hunt them out and give them to Kensi sooner rather than later? It certainly looked like she was going to be needing them.<p>

Clutching onto Marty's hand like grim death, Kensi trotted quickly through the first floor, trying to ignore the many remarks that his somewhat unorthodox garb provoked. Chief among the comments was "Oh God – Kensi's literally torn the pants off him this time." She could see that he was doing his best to ignore them, but even so, the tips of his ears were distinctly pink. Heaven alone knew what the reaction would be when the news of her pregnancy got out. If she was actually pregnant, of course. More than ever, she wished there was another female agent she could talk to about things. It wasn't easy being the only woman in a male-dominated field. There was Nell, of course, but she was still very young, and not even in a relationship – as far as Kensi knew. But then she hadn't known Eric was in relationship either, or that he'd got married, far less that he was gay. Sometimes Kensi wondered how she could be such a good agent, where observation was a key skill and yet so blissfully ignorant of the things that surrounded her on a daily basis.

Eric looked at Deeks when he entered Ops and shook his head sadly. "I'm not going to repeat all the things you've said about my shorts." _Those underpants are the business though. They make his ass look amazing. I must ask him where he got them from._

"I don't think you could carry that look off. I'm not even sure Deeks can, but at least he's got good legs," Sam remarked callously. "Although they could maybe do with a shave." A broad grin lit up his face. "Long time no see, guys."

"Sam!" Kensi ran across the room and flung herself into his arms.

"It's nice to see you too, Kensi." Looking over the top of her head he raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Look, I know things have been bad, but I'm fine, Deeks is fine – we're all fine."

"She's pregnant. Probably." Callen mouthed silently.

"Really?" Sam took hold of Kensi's elbows and looked at her carefully. "You're pregnant? Callen's not just messing with my head?"

"He better not have been messing with my girl," Deeks commented.

"Oh Kensi." Sam picked her up and swung her around in the air. "That's brilliant news. Not so good for the baby, having Deeks as a Daddy, but you can't have everything." He reached out and shook Deeks' hand. "Congratulations

"And our babies can grow up together," Denise added, pulling Deeks down into a hug. "Don't you listen to a word Sam says, by the way."

"I never do," he assured her and then grinned down at Crosby. "How're you doing, buddy?"

"I'm good," the little boy replied, as his mother snorted in disbelief. "What happened to your pants, Marty? Did you have another accident and pee in them?"

"Kind of. It's a long story."

Crosby's attention had already wandered and he traced an enquiring finger along the scar on Deeks' thigh. "What happened there?"

"I wouldn't eat my broccoli one night and your Dad drew a knife on me. Only joking, "he added hastily as Crosby's eyes grew wide with horror. "No, I was swimming in the sea in Scotland and this haddock came up and latched onto me with its teeth."

"What's a haddock?"

"It's a Scottish shark. They're really mean, with huge teeth."

"Cool."

"The Scots eat them for their tea, with fries. Only they call them chips."

"Why?"

"Beats me."

"You do realise you are telling my son a complete fairy tale and he believes every word?"

"Yup. You got a problem with that?"

"Only if I can't do the same to yours?"

"It's a deal. You can do that when you're babysitting, okay"

Sam patted him on the shoulder. "Talking about babysitting, seems like Kensi will be longing to get some practice in. And I'm sure you're anxious to change your first really dirty diaper."

"I can't wait." _Actually, that doesn't seem nearly as awful as it did in the past. Not when it's your baby. _

While the men were otherwise engaged, Kensi took the opportunity to pull Denise aside for a chat. "There's so much I want to ask you."

"How far along are you?" Denise was now looking unmistakably pregnant, with a small, neat bump stretching her t-shirt taught. And Kensi could swear that her breasts looked noticeably fuller.

"It's not been confirmed yet, but I guess about six weeks?" _Will my breasts grow bigger too? I hope so. I've always wanted to be a bigger cup size. Only what happens afterwards? Do they just sort of deflate and plummet down towards your knees?_

"You have taken a test, haven't you?"

"No," Kensi confessed. "I was just going to go see my gynaecologist tomorrow. But I'm almost certain I'm pregnant. I mean, I feel pregnant."

Denise schooled her face into impassivity. _I hope she's not in for a big disappointment._ "Going to the doctor sounds like a really good idea. And it's still early days yet. You want to get yourself checked out, find out what you should be eating, all those sorts of things." It was hard to remember how she'd felt when she was newly pregnant with Crosby, but surely it was a bit early to actually _feel _pregnant? It was much more likely to be wishful thinking on Kensi's part. "You both seem really happy. You'd planned this, of course?"

"Not exactly. Well, not at all, actually. But then we hadn't done anything _not_ to plan it, if that makes sense. And given the way things are between us, I suppose it was inevitable." _Now I think about it, I'm just surprised I didn't get pregnant months ago._

"Insatiable, is he?" Denise could remember those days – just. Having a baby, who demanded attention 24 hours a day had effectively put an end to all that. It hadn't done their marriage much good either. It was only when Crosby started going to school that she'd felt she was reclaiming her life back. _So exactly why did I get pregnant again?_ Denise wondered. And then she remembered the joy of feeling her baby kick the other day, and she thought back to holding Crosby for the very first time and she knew exactly why. Because some things were worth it. She looked across at Crosby who was now talking to his father.

"You missed my birthday, Daddy." He looked accusingly upwards, eyes large and soulful

"Yeah, I know." There weren't many things that could make Sam look shamefaced, but Crosby had unerringly put his finger on one of them: the fear of not being a good father. "I'm really sorry about that. I wanted to be there." _I bet Deeks taught him that puppy-dog look._

"So why weren't you?"

"Because he was busy fighting off those killer haddock I told you about. It was your Dad that saved me, Crosby – he punched the haddock so hard that it swam away. Only your Dad swam after it and…" Deeks launched into a long and convoluted story that had Crosby engrossed and hanging onto his every word.

"I'm not sure if I should be grateful to Deeks for saving my skin there, or concerned that a man wearing only a pair of underpants and a t-shirt is talking to my son."

"They're very nice underpants," Denise said appreciatively. "Lovely snug fit." She looked at Sam meaningfully. "Much more flattering than the things some men wear. Like shapeless boxer shorts."

"I don't know, I think Marty looks cute in boxers too. Or out of them." Kensi smiled dreamily.

"Dear God, we've got another eight months of this," Callen said. "By then I swear she'll have told us every single detail of their love life. Their exceedingly active love life."

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, by the seventh month Kensi will be feeling so huge and ungainly she'll never want to let him near her again. Believe me on that." _And when she's actually giving birth, she'll threaten him with everything under the sun if he so much as looks at her again._

Callen digested this information. "I hear what you're saying. So why go through it all again?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, it was Denise's idea."

"And you couldn't say no?"

"Not if I ever wanted to have sex with her again, I couldn't."

"I've got a lot to learn about women, haven't I?" Callen knew there was a reason he'd had a strict 6 week limit on relationships up until now. But still, having a baby couldn't be that bad, could it? And it didn't have to change your life, because babies were small and could just fit in around things. Sam was just exaggerating – he had a bad habit of doing that. Still, there was no harm in talking to Nico about finding a house of their own. Once they had a house, they could get a cat. Cats were almost as good as babies; in fact kittens were a lot cuter than most babies. And the advantage with a cat was that when it grew up, you could sell its babies. Yes, the more he thought about it, the surer Callen was that the way to go was with a cat. Or two. He'd just content himself with being a brevet uncle to the children his team mates produced.

Hetty stood to one side and watched as her team relaxed, joked and laughed together. And most of all, bonded. They were all back home, slightly battle-scarred, but they were alive. She'd done a lot of things in her life, but what she most proud of was right here in this room. When all was said and done, they were _her_ team. And they always would be. Only there was something she had to attend to as a matter of urgency.

"Mr Deeks? If I might suggest that you avail yourself of the rather extensive wardrobe I have downstairs?"

"Don't you like my legs, Hetty?"

"That's not the point, as well you know. Let me just bring up a possible scenario: Sec Nav comes on screen in two minutes and you're standing there looking like you're about to take part in some adult movie. It's hardly the image we wish to project, is it?"

Wearing something from Hetty's personally selected store of clothes wasn't exactly the image Deeks wanted to project either, as the clothes tended to be heavily reminiscent of the 1970s, which his mother had always referred to as "the decade that taste forgot". And having lived through it and worn some truly terrible outfits, Maryanne Brandel had spoken from experience. Her son hadd seen the photographic evidence and she'd been right. It was a mystery why Callen put up with Hetty's strange ideas on what constituted fashionable clothing, but Deeks certainly wasn't going to wear anything she had chosen. Not to mention the fact that any pants that fitted Callen would be flapping somewhere around mid-calf.

"I've got a change of clothes in my locker," he assured her and looked pleadingly at Kensi. He'd braved the catcalls once, but wasn't about to do it again, not when there was someone else around.

"Things are going to change around here," Kensi said warningly. "I'm not going to be running around after you for much longer."

"It's started already," Callen whispered to Sam.

"And it's going to get worse. You ain't seen nothing yet."


	3. Chapter 3

Deeks had just made himself fit for decent company, when Hetty's cell received a text message.

"Jethro says that Mr DiNozzo is acting, and I quote "even more strangely than normal". He's insisting that he goes to the hospital to get checked over and suggests you join him there." She fired off a reply and stared at him meaningfully.

"Do I have a choice?" _I hate hospitals. They smell strange. And I've spent far too much time in them recently. _

Callen looked at the bruised face and shook his head slowly. "Not really, Deeks. And I'm guessing you're sporting a couple of cracked ribs under that shirt as well."

"Plus you got hit on the head – again." Sam had lost count of the number of times Deeks had been knocked out. "It's a good thing you've got all that hair to cushion the blows. Not to mention the fact there's very little brain in there to damage."

"They're going to make me have another brain scan, aren't they?" Deeks whined. "I hate those things."

"Then I'd suggest you make more of an effort to stay out of trouble next time," Hetty informed him.

"Maybe you could ask for a special deal on the NCIS medical insurance policy?" Callen suggested. "For every ten head scans Deeks gets, they throw in a free obstetric delivery? That would keep it all in the family, so to speak."

"You think you're so funny, don't you?" Kensi punched him in the arm. "And just who dropped him on the head? Answer me that."

"I've just remembered – Callen's paying for the honeymoon. The bridal suite at SeaWorld awaits." It was time to start getting his own back, Deeks reckoned. "And I want ringside seats at the Shamu show."

"As long as we can charge room service, I'm fine with wherever we stay." Kensi planned to spend most of the time in the hotel suite anyway, so it didn't really matter where they were after all. Not that SeaWorld would be her first choice, but it was worth it to make Callen sweat a little. "And we can order vintage champagne."

"Uh uh. No drinking when you're pregnant." Denise could see she hadn't thought that far ahead. _Oh honey, it's only just beginning. You really don't know what you've let yourself in for, do you?_

* * *

><p>One look at DiNozzo and Deeks could see why Gibbs was concerned, as the agent had a semi shell-shocked expression on his face. He was still only wearing Callen's spare pants, which were rather too tight and definitely too short.<p>

"You doing okay, DiNozzo?"

"Couldn't be better." He gave a goofy sort of grin.

"Are you sure? 'Cos you really don't look too good." _Maybe it's delayed concussion? Or a blood clot on the brain? I had that – I think. Only I was unconscious, so I can't exactly remember._

"He's fine." Ziva materialised, like some sort of Israeli ninja, if that wasn't a contradiction in terms. And then she put out a proprietorial hand. "Aren't you, my little furry bear?" Her hand rubbed said hairy chest lovingly.

It was only because Kensi stepped very hard on his foot that Deeks didn't burst out laughing. _Thank God Kensi and I were never that obvious. We did a pretty good job of not letting on. I think._

"Martin Deeks?" A flustered looking doctor appeared. "According to your file you're a regular visitor here." He waved a bulging folder. "We're going to have open up a second volume for your notes soon, and this one only covers the last six months."

"He's kind of accident prone," Kensi said. "Terribly clumsy, really."

"And these people keep hitting me on the head and shooting at me."

"You got hit on the head – again?" The doctor shook his head. "Have you ever thought of taking up a safer line of work – like bomb disposal?"

"Or maybe he could just wear a crash helmet?" Ziva suggested.

Deeks trudged off drearily to be subjected to another barrage of tests, and Kensi found herself in the awkward position of playing gooseberry. "Have you got somewhere to stay?" she asked, after a particularly long and painful silence.

"Gibbs and I were staying at Hetty's place."

"I came straight from the airport," Ziva said. "And then I saw Tony on the security camera."

"It was a very good angle," Kensi said generously. She'd never gone for men with body hair, but whatever turned Ziva on was fine. "Caught you at your best, really. You could stay with us, if you want. You too, Tony. There's plenty of room. Not that you have to have separate rooms. Or share a room. Although you can if you want. But you don't have to. It's up to you. There's lots of room, that's all I'm saying."

"Do you want to shut up, Kensi?" DiNozzo said kindly. "Before you dig that hole any deeper?"

* * *

><p>"Does that hurt?" Kensi said softly.<p>

"Uh huh." Marty sprawled contentedly on the bed as her lips roved tenderly over his ribcage.

"Want me to kiss it better?"

"Uh huh."

"How about that?"

"Yeah, that could do with being kissed."

"Like this? Or like this?"

"Yeah."

"That's going to bruise, you know."

"I know. But don't let that stop you."

"I wasn't." Kensi raised her head slowly and looked at him. "I was really worried."

"Me too. I'm not going back there again."

"As Max, you mean?"

"Yeah. Never again."

"Good."

"I thought you'd say that. You want to just hold me for a bit?" Despite the heat of the bed, Marty found he was shivering.

"Oh yes." Kensi shimmied up the bed and buried her head in the crook of his neck. "I missed you so much, Marty." She wrapped her arms around him, being as careful as she could of those broken ribs. "I'm never going to let you go again."

"Good." The room was dark, with only the faintest line of light shining under the door, and there was nobody else around, so that it was perfectly safe. He was with Kensi and there was nobody else in the world he trusted more and he could drown in her kisses. Only right now, everything was just too overpowering and even though he was happier than he'd ever been in his life, Marty found that for some reason his eyes were starting to water. "Tell me about the baby," he begged, as a tear slipped out of the side of his eye and ran down his face. "Tell me how wonderful it's all going to be."

"We're going to be the best parents ever." Kensi kissed away the tears. "And I'm going to love you forever."

And as they celebrated their love, across on the other side of the house, behind another shut door another couple were just beginning to find out how much they loved one another.

* * *

><p><em>Well, slushy plot bunny is ever so happy at the moment. All is well and the Malibu mansion is love central. For the moment. You just know something's going to happen, don't you? At the very least, Allison Blye is going to swoop down on her broomstick... Maybe I should set evil plot bunny on her?<em>

_Reviews are, as always, the things that fill me with delight. A bit like a Cadbury's Wispa bar, only less calorific._


	4. Chapter 4

_A tiny interlude with Tony and Ziva. Because it's about time…_

* * *

><p>Ziva awoke to find the room flooded with sunlight and stretched out happily. One arm encountered a warm body and she sat bolt upright.<p>

"Tony? What are you doing?"

"I _was_ sleeping."

"What are you doing in my bed?" she said accusingly, clutching the sheet protectively around her breasts.

"One: you're old enough to know the whole of Goldilocks and The Three Bears off by heart, without me needing to join in and help you out. And two, that display of maidenly modesty is too little, too late." He leered cheerily at her.

"It wasn't a dream then?" Ziva collapsed back on the pillows and sighed in relief.

"You dream about me." DiNozzo stated and then stretched out a hand and pulled down the sheet.

"Not that often. And stop staring."

"Why? I used to dream about your breasts, but this is better. Much better." He rolled over and started to caress her.

"Really?" the way she rolled her "r's" made it sound like a purr.

"Really. Want me to prove it?"

"Oh yes."

Later, much later, she looked down at him. "What are we going to say to Gibbs?"

Tony grinned and wrapped his arms around her waist, loving the way she lay on top of him, so that he could feel every inch of her length. "How about 'Good morning, Gibbs. Did you sleep well?' And then maybe offer him a coffee."

"He will know."

"How?" Busy kissing the curve of her neck, Tony really didn't want to think about Gibbs at this moment. It kind of put him off his stride.

"Because he is Gibbs." Ziva turned her head and kissed him full on the lips. "And because I won't be able to keep my hands off you. Why did we wait so long?"

"Because I'm a slow learner?"

"I could teach you?"

"I can never resist temptation."

Sometimes, it was worth waiting. Right now, Tony DiNozzo wouldn't change a single thing about his life. Except for maybe going back in time and putting on his pants the moment he got out of the shower yesterday morning. Either that or breaking into Eric's computer and erasing that incriminating tape.

"Gibbs is going to be waiting for us," Ziva said. It was getting on towards midday and they still hadn't managed to get out of bed. There was too much to discover about one another, too much to say and far too much still to do.

"You kept me waiting for years." They were sitting up, facing each other, and Ziva's legs were wrapped around his waist.

"That was different." She loved the way their bodies moulded into one another, the way the hairs on his chest tickled her breasts and the way his hands were cupping her buttocks

"How?" The scent of her was intoxicating, a spicy, sweetness that did the most incredible things to his body, almost against his will, Tony thought.

"I don't love Gibbs."

"That works for me."

"We can let Gibbs wait a while longer." Ziva didn't even bother to try to suppress the shiver of delight that ran down her spine.

"It'll do him good to learn to be patient. Talking of which…?" Tony shifted his hands slightly, having decided that he had waited long enough.

"Oh yes. Please."

"I can never resist a girl who begs with such throaty passion."

"You cannot resist me."

"That's true."

They'd waited for so long, for what had possibly amounted to the most prolonged instance of foreplay in the history of the world, baiting and bickering, denying and desiring, wanting and waiting. But the consummation, while devoutly wished, had exceeded expectations. And it continued to do so. They were, after all, at the peak of physical condition, even if DiNozzo was slightly battered and bruised. Consequently, they were still in bed that afternoon.

"Your father is going to hate me." Eli David had never exactly bothered to hide his feelings about DiNozzo. Nothing would have pleased him more than to have his daughter safely married off to one of his Mossad minions.

"He already hates you. But I hate him, so we are even."

"You reckon he knows about Vance?"

Ziva shook back her hair. "Probably. He knows most things."

Tony considered this. "You think he knows about us?"

"I think he knew before we did."

"And what about Hetty? Exactly how friendly do you reckon she and Gibbs are?"

"She does call him Jethro." Ziva wondered if he had a point there. "And they are old friends."

"Ducky's an old friend too. And he calls him Jethro. You reckon…?"

"I reckon you have sex on the brain."

"I reckon you're right."

It was beginning to look as if they wouldn't make it out of bed at all, at the rate things were going. But then, they did have a lot of wasted years to make up for.

* * *

><p><em>No promises, but I will try to post another installment later on tonight. Because slushy plot bunny is sitting up on his hind legs and begging nicely.<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_As promised – a small smidgeon with Kensi and Marty, getting ready to go out. ANd that makes FOUR - count them! - four updates today. Which is good, even by my standards!_

* * *

><p>"I just realised something," Marty said, buttoning his shirt. "When I was Max, I think I could understand what my Dad was like, back then. You know. You just kind of get pulled down into things, and you want to pull back, only you can't. You're in so deep that you have to keep going, even though you know what you're doing is wrong." He tucked the sparkling white cotton down inside his dress pants and straightened the collar.<p>

"You're not your father." Kensi sat at the dressing table brushing her hair and he came and stood behind her, took the brush and started to ease it through her hair, with long slow strokes, as her eyes half-closed in ecstacy.

"I know. But what if I'm more like him than I think? What if I make the same mistakes he did – or worse? I know what I can be like. What I have the potential to be. What if I mess up our kid, Kensi? What if I hurt him or her, like my dad did?"

Looking in the mirror, she could see his hand was shaking. "You won't. Because that's not who you are. Can't you see that? You know the difference between right and wrong – in fact, you're too hard on yourself. You're not your Dad and you're not Max Gentry either."

"But I could have been." The brush fell onto the floor and Marty placed both hands on her shoulders. Their eyes met in the mirror and Kensi could see how haunted his expression was. "That's what really scares me, Kensi. There were times when it would have been so damned easy to be Max. Like there's something bad inside me. And what if one day I can't fight it?"

Kensi reached up and put her hands on top of his. "I know you, remember? I know you better than anyone, and I know you're not a bad man. You never were Max, not really and you never will be. You were just acting a part and you got in a bit too far. But you got back out again. And you're going to be a great Daddy. Because you love this baby so much already."

"Thanks." Marty bent down and kissed the top of her head. "Have I told you how much I love you?"

"Once or twice. But don't let that stop you."

"Seriously, Kensi. You make me so happy. I didn't know life could be this good."

"Me neither." She tilted her head back and smiled up at him. "So - are you ready to see the ob/gyn?"

"Just let me get my tie on. I want to make a good impression."

For some reason, that made Kensi start to cry again, the fact that Marty would go to that much trouble, putting on a suit just to go to a stupid appointment, as if he was afraid that if he didn't look smart then they might decide he wasn't father-material. Only it was too late to do anything about that now – the bun was well and truly in the oven. Giving her stomach a little pat, she mopped her eyes with Hetty's handkerchief and then tucked it into her pocket, just in case. She seemed to cry so easily now – whenever she was really happy or really sad. Or even if she was somewhere in between.

"You do look lovely in a suit. Especially that suit."

"Why this particular suit?" It was just a navy business suit, nothing special.

"Turn around. Now, put your hands in your pockets." She surveyed the rear view and gave a contended sigh. "It's something about the way the material stretches across your butt."

"You just want me for my body, don't you?" Marty crossed the room in a couple of strides and pulled her into a kiss.

"That's what got me into this condition, remember? This very interesting condition."

"Me a cowboy."

Kensi looked blank

"Old joke. Old Catholic joke. In the Latin mass, you'd say _'Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa'_. Only, when he was a kid, my dad heard it wrong and he used to say 'me a cowboy, me a cowboy, me a Mexican cowboy.' It's probably not really that funny, but it was kind of a family joke." Marty had that slightly nostalgic look that Kensi had learned to recognise whenever he recalled some inconsequential memory from the days before the Brandel family imploded.

"It's important to you, isn't it? This whole Catholic thing, I mean. Like getting married and having the baby baptised and all that. It really matters to you." _And you were willing to push it all away, just because I was worried about what my mother might say. Why am I even considering putting my Mom's prejudices above what matters to Marty?_

Marty hung his head sheepishly. "It does. I'm sorry, but it really does." It wasn't easy to talk about what it was like being brought up a Catholic, of always having that solid foundation of belief, the knowledge that there was a greater power at work, not even to Kensi. It wasn't her fault- it was his.

"Then that's what we'll do. Why not?" _And if my mother says one word, I'll tell her where to go. It's none of her business anyway. This is between me and Marty._

"You don't hate the whole idea then?"

"I don't hate anything about you. I just didn't realise how much it meant to you, that's all. And I should have done. So it's me that's sorry."

"No need. You're giving me a baby. Everything else is the cherry on top of the icing on top of the cupcake. And we're going to be late, if we don't get a move on."

"I already am late. That's why we've got the appointment with the baby doctor, remember?"


	6. Chapter 6

"You're sure? Absolutely sure?"

"You want to look at the sonogram print-out again?" She fluttered it invitingly in front of his nose.

"Yes." He took the print and stared at it rapturously. "Our baby. Who would have thought it?" After a couple of minutes concentrated gazing at the image, he looked up, forehead wrinkled in concern. "Are you absolutely sure it's the right way up? Only it doesn't look much like a baby."

"It's definitely the right way up. And it's only a very tiny baby at the moment. About the size of my little finger." She held up her hand and crooked her pinky, still almost unable to comprehend it herself.

"But it is a baby?" _Because that actually looks like some miniature alien._

"Yes, it is a baby. It's our baby." Doubt overwhelmed her for a moment. "I know we didn't plan this, but you are happy aren't you_?" I know it's a shock, seeing it in black and white – but think what it's like for me. I'm the one who's growing this baby in her belly._

"Happy?" Callen grabbed hold of Nico and embraced her in a way that left no possible room for doubt. "I'm over the moon. And wait till we tell the others!"

"I'm going to have a word with Hetty," Nico said darkly. "She has to be putting something in the water. "It's unnatural, that's what it is. All the members of the team expecting babies at the same time? What are the odds of that?" _Although, given how highly sexed you all are, maybe I shouldn't really be surprised._

"Astronomical. But who cares?" He looked at her carefully. "You pleased too, aren't you? And it's not going to mess things up between us, is it?" _And to think I was planning on getting a cat. Only, maybe I still could? What's stopping me? Apart from Nico, of course. But maybe if I bring home a really cute kitten, she'll be too sentimental to scream at me? It might be worth trying. And it's good for children to be brought up with pets around. I'm sure it is. _

Nico rolled her eyes. "Of course it's going to mess things up. Babies do that – it's practically their job description. But we can work with it. Because I want this baby more than anything in the world."

"More than me?"

"Okay, maybe I exaggerated slightly."

As they embraced again, Callen thought that the sooner he started making some real moves to find them a house of their own the better. It was great living here in the Malibu mansion, but it was time to move on. It was time to find that family home he'd always secretly dreamed about. The past was well-behind him now and the future was beckoning imperiously. His dream had never been closer to fulfilment and nothing, absolutely nothing was going to stop him from achieving it. He was going to have the house with the white picket fence, a beautiful wife, a baby and even those two cats in the yard Crosby, Still, Nash and Young were always singing about. And if that wasn't the ultimate American dream, he didn't know what was.

* * *

><p>"You're sure?" Marty asked, holding onto Kensi's hand so tightly she felt as if the circulation had stopped. Both of them were staring at the screen, as the doctor moved the scanner slowly across Kensi's belly. "You're absolutely positive?"<p>

"Yes, I'm sure."

"But I did one of those tests. I peed on that stick and it said I was pregnant." Kensi stared up at the doctor, hoping that this was just some awful mistake.

"I'm so very sorry. You were pregnant, it's just that things didn't work out. We don't know why, but it often happens in the early stages. Your body will expel the embryo over the next day or so. It'll be like you're having a heavy period." She removed the scanner and wiped away the gel. "I really am very sorry." There was never an easy way of telling people their baby had failed to survive, that it was dead. And it never got any easier, no matter how many times you said the words. Each time thre was another couple whose world had just disintegrated.

"Was it something I did? Something I didn't do? There has to be a reason." Kensi drew her brows together, trying to think of what might have caused this. _It was my fault, wasn't it? I killed my baby._

"You did nothing wrong. Like I said, these things just happen. Often it's nature's way. But you're both young and healthy, there's no reason why you shouldn't try again, in a few months. You just need to give yourselves some time to get over this." _Usually, it's because there is something fundamentally wrong with the embryo, some condition that simply isn't compatible with life. But you don't need to hear that right now. Perhaps later on, it will help but right now, you just need time to grieve._

Looking at Kensi, lying mutely there on the couch like some beautiful statue, Marty didn't think there would ever be time enough to get over this. "We wanted _this_ baby," he mumbled, feeling like a complete idiot.

"I know. I really do understand how hard this is." This part of the job was the bit the doctor hated – seeing the destruction of dreams before her very eyes.

"Do you?" Kensi's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Yes, I do. I've had two miscarriages myself." It wasn't something the doctor normally shared, but you had to be flexible, and sometimes that meant sharing the secret heartbreak. If it would help this couple to accept their loss, then she was willing to do that.

Kensi digested this information. "We'll never know what happened? What went wrong, I mean?"

"It's unlikely. We could do some blood tests on you both – just to see if there's any underlying problem."

"Do them." Marty rolled up his sleeve. He wanted to know – so that this would never happen again. So that the next time they were in here, they had a healthy baby. It wasn't too much to ask for, was it? Babies were such an everyday miracle – they happened to everyone else. So why not to him and Kensi?

When they left thirty minutes later, the doctor leaned back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling. They'd been such a nice young couple and she really hoped their luck would change – that they would come back one day and she'd be able to confirm a viable pregnancy and then deliver their baby. However, life didn't always pan out the way you thought it would. It was ironic that she helped other women through their pregnancies, given her own medical history. Not everyone was lucky and the doctor had never had a third pregnancy; she had other people's babies instead.

They walked out to the car as if in a dream – a bad dream; the worst nightmare possible. Neither of them could speak and it wasn't until she was out in the fresh air that the realisation hit Kensi.

"I lost the baby. Oh God, I lost the baby." She clung to him desperately. "Oh Marty, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault. You heard what the doctor said." They were supporting each other in their grief, each trying desperately to draw some strength from the other. "I'm so sorry, Kensi."

"It's not fair. Other girls get pregnant when they don't even want a baby."

"I know. It sucks."

"I really wanted this baby."

"Me too." Passers-by were giving them strange looks, but Marty didn't give a damn. He wanted to scream that his world was falling apart around his ears, so why the hell shouldn't he stand in the middle of a parking lot, with tears rolling down his face?

"Take me home," Kensi begged. "I don't want to see anyone. I just want to go home." She'd had all these dreams stretching out in front of her and they had disappeared in the blink of an eye; the golden future was suddenly dry and barren, just like her. She'd been so happy - and now all she felt was emptiness, and guilt for dreaming.

* * *

><p>Oh dear - I'm aware that I've shattered more than a few dreams with that chapter. Slushy plot bunny says he hates me and even his evil brother says I've gone too far this time. But - these things happen in real life - not even the most golden couple is immune from this everyday tragedy. And it is a tragedy - one you never forget. Believe me on that one.<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

_It's not the worst thing that can happen in life: it just feels like that, because you realise all the dreams are gone. Many thanks for all the supportive reviews - I knew I was going out on a limb here._

* * *

><p>"I don't want to see anyone." Kensi walked into the house and then went straight up the stairs, looking neither left nor right, moving like an automaton. Once in their bedroom, she went into the bathroom, and shut the door firmly behind her. Marty sat down on the bed, wrenched off his tie, and waited. They'd barely spoken the whole journey home, each inured in their own grief. It seemed a very long time until she finally came out, just wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of panties.<p>

"I'm bleeding. Just like the doctor said." Kensi wrapped her arms around herself protectively, and stared blankly at him. "It's no big deal," she said, although of course, it was. They both knew that. It was just that this was the way things had to be and there was nothing they could do to stop it, or change it – they just had to get through it.

"Come and lie down." He lead her over to the bed, and then tucked her in, drawing the coveres close around her body and stroking her hair gently, just as if she was a little girl. "Your hands are freezing." Marty rubbed them between his own, trying to coax some warmth back into them, thinking that Kensi looked as frail and insubstantial as a ghost.

"I'm alright. Really, I am. It doesn't hurt. Funny, because I thought it would hurt. It's strange, isn't it? Because I keep thinking that this should really hurt – only it doesn't." Curled up into a ball, her teeth were chattering, and Marty realised she was probably in shock. He lay down beside her, curving his body around her back. "It's just my heart that hurts, I suppose. I just feel drained. Like there's this great, big emptiness inside me, like a hole that's never going to be filled." Kensi wondered if she would ever feel normal again. _Only I'm not normal, am I? Having a baby's supposed to be the most natural thing in the world. So why can't I have a baby? What's wrong with me that I can't have a baby?_

"Like there's always something that's going to be missing?" Marty said. It wasn't really a question, he was just trying to show her that in some small way, he did understand a small part of what she was going through. Only he couldn't begin to find that right words. Instead, he kissed the nape of her neck. "It's worse for you, I know that. But I'm hurting too." _Why did this have to happen to us? We would have loved the baby so much._

"I know you are. It was your baby too." Kensi turned around and looked at him, as if she was seeing him for the very first time. "Do you think it would have been a boy or a girl?" Her hands gripped onto his shoulders, as if she was a swimmer caught in a rip-tide and he was her rock of salvation.

"A girl. Definitely. A little girl who looked just like her mommy_." Isn't it every man's dream to have a baby girl? A sweet baby girl, who looks up at her Daddy and thinks he's the greatest man on earth._ "You're going to be a mom, Kensi – I promise you. One day we'll have our baby."

"I wanted a boy," she confessed. "A little boy with big blue eyes and blond curls and with a smile that could break my heart. But I would have loved a little girl too."

"I would have adored a baby boy." Marty's whole body shuddered as the grief rolled through him in violent waves. "This really, really isn't fair. And I feel I should be strong and helping you get through this, and I'm just useless_." I feel like such a failure. I've let you down so badly. I should be helping you and look at me – I'm a mess._

"No, you're not. You're hurting, that's all. Like me." _Will it ever stop hurting?_ The events of the morning began to catch up with her and Kensi struggled to stifle a yawn. "I think maybe I might have a nap."

Marty eased himself out of bed, pulled the covers up around her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. "I love you so much, Kensi."

Her hand shot out and grabbed onto his wrist. "Never stop telling me that. Because without you, I'm nothing."

"I'll never stop loving you. Never. I promise."

The last conscious thought Kensi had was that at least she wasn't going to have to break it to her mother that she was pregnant and still not married. This was going to stay private, just between her and Marty. It was their own personal tragedy and it was nobody else's business, least of all her mother's. At least it had let her focus on what was really important in her life and for that she would always be grateful.

On his way out of the room, Marty spotted the pregnancy testing stick lying proudly on the dressing table and his heart contracted painfully. The test that had given them so much joy last night, starting when Kensi had come running out of the bathroom, demanding that he counted off the seconds before the result would be revealed. And then when the positive symbol had come up, proud and unmistakeable he'd been first elated, and then terrified. _I don't know how to be a Daddy. I don't even know how to be a grown-up, if I'm honest with myself. What if I mess up? What if I mess my baby up?_ Only, with Kensi beside him, Marty had known he would somehow find a way.

And there it sat now, a small insignificant piece of plastic, the one physical reminder that for a brief space of time, there had been a baby. Their baby. As quietly as possible, Marty opened a drawer and slipped it in towards the back. Call him stupid and sentimental, but there was no way he could have thrown it out. There were voices coming from the kitchen, along with the familiar scent of coffee and as much as he wanted to be alone, the lure of caffeine was stronger.

"Deeks!" Callen pulled out a chair. "Perfect timing. We've got something to tell you."

Marty thought vaguely that they must have bought some new, high-caffeine brand of coffee beans, because the older man was almost jittery and there was a palpable air of excitement in the room.

"Let the man have his coffee first." Nico looked at him carefully. "You look shattered, honey." _It looks like the responsibilities of impending fatherhood have just hit you hard on the head, Mikey._

"It was a long morning. You know what hospitals can be liked." Marty wrapped his hands around the mug and wondered how he could ever manage to find the words to tell them. It had to be done, he knew that, this was one thing he could do to spare Kensi some more pain, but the trouble was that he just couldn't seem to work out how he was going to tell them without breaking down and sobbing like some little kid. "So, what's your news?"

"Well, there's good news and there's better news." Callen exchanged a glance full of meaning with Nico, but Marty was too busy regarding his coffee cup to even notice. "The good news is that we're going to be moving out."

"Is that house of yours big enough? I thought Nico's piano pretty much took up the whole living room?" _I can do this. I just have to focus. I've done worse things – I've knocked on doors and told mothers that their sons have died in some stupid gang affair. Only they were strangers and these are my friends._

"We're buying our own house. Together." Nico tried not to smirk and failed. "And it's going to have furniture and everything." _The first thing I'm going to buy is a crib._

"Congratulations." Marty made a valiant effort to sound enthusiastic. "You finally managed to house-train Callen. It was about time." _Callen's got it bad. Really bad. And Nico's got him exactly where she wants him. _

"But there's even better news."

"You're finally going to give me some rent money?" Marty managed the riposte, because he knew it was expected, but his heart wasn't really in it.

Callen ignored that. _There's something wrong with Deeks. It's like he's this pale shadow of himself. He brushed the thought aside. He's probably just to hang around the hospital for ages. We all know how frustrating that can be. Although, given the amount of time Deeks manages to spend inside various medical facilities, he really should be used to that by now. Maybe he's just tired?_ "Go on, Nico: he's your best friend. You tell him."

"Mikey honey, you know how we always said we'd be friends forever? And that we were always meant to be friends, because our birthdays are only a couple of days apart?"

"I remember." When they'd first met, Nico had been this plump kid, with buck teeth, more confidence than the starting-line of the LA Rams and a punch like Mike Tyson's. When Nico had informed him that he was going to be her best friend, the six year old Mikey Brandel had been too terrified to say no.

"Well, now our kids are going to carry on that tradition. Because I'm pregnant too. Isn't that great?" Their hands met across the table and Nico and Callen turned to look at Marty, joy radiating out of them, so damned happy that you could actually feel it. Marty could remember what that felt, that heady feeling that you'd achieved the impossible – you had ensured your immortality.

"It's wonderful." He put down the coffee cup and kissed her, then shook Callen's hand. "That's the best news. I'm really happy for you guys." And the funny thing was that he _was_ happy for them, even if he was also breaking his heart at the same time. Not for one instant did he grudge them their happiness or wish them anything but the best. It was just that Marty wished more than anything that he could be happy too. If only he could rewind time… If only things were different and Kensi was still pregnant and if only, if only, if only…

"So, tell me everything the doctor said." Nico settled herself comfortably. "When's the baby due? Do you want to find out the sex?"

"They can do that?" Callen pulled out the sonogram picture and stared at it. "How?" _It doesn't even look human. How long before it starts to look human?_

"Not just yet. You have to wait until it's a bit older."

"Oh. Does yours look as strange as ours,Deeks?" He handed the photo across and Marty stared at it blankly. "Or does yours actually look like a baby?"

"You did get a photo, didn't you?" Nico was beginning to get worried now. This wasn't the Mikey she knew and loved. He looked like a man who just walked away from a train crash in which he was the only survivor.

"No, we didn't get a photo." Marty took a deep breath. "The thing is… ah, you see… " This was even more difficult than he'd thought it would be. There was nothing else for it but just to say it bluntly, say it once, get it over with and then he'd never have to say it again. "We lost the baby. There isn't going to be a baby. Not anymore." The silence draped around them like a pall of velvet, close and enveloping, deadening everything else.

"I don't know what to say. Except that I'm so sorry." Callen reached out and patted Deeks tentatively on the shoulder, while Nico just sat perfectly still with a stunned expression on her face and one hand lying lightly on her stomach. Marty was pretty sure she was praying, praying harder than she'd ever prayed in her life – for their lost baby and for her own. "Are you alright?"

"No, not really." He got up and pushed the chair back into place, aware that if he didn't get out of here right now, there was no telling what he might do or say "I don't know how I feel, to be honest. And Kensi's worse. I think she's in shock. I'd better go and see her." He walked slowly out of the room, as if in a daze.

"Oh shit. Talk about bad timing." Callen bent over and hit his head lightly off the table.

"I feel terrible. He's hurting so much and we had to go and blurt it out like that. We should have realised something was wrong. I should have realised – he's supposed to be my best friend and I didn't even ask him about how things had gone. What kind of person am I?"

"A pregnant lady, who's feeling mixed up, because she's happy and sad at the same time. But it does make things difficult. We'd better get moving on finding our own place as soon as possible. We don't want to make things worse for them."

"I hate being grown-up," Nico said fiercely. "I really, really hate it."

"I know. It sucks."


	8. Chapter 8

Callen pulled out his cell. "I'm going to have to let Hetty know. Kensi's not going to be going back to work for a while. I know she and Deeks have a running joke that she's Wonder Woman, but even she's going to take time to get over this."

"And it'll save Mikey having to tell Hetty. It must have been hellish for him just now." Nico tried very hard not to think about how difficult it must have been, especially after they'd just blurted out the news about their own baby. If only they'd waited...

"I don't know how he did it." Callen put the phone down and reached blindly for her hand. "You are sure the doctor said everything was alright – with you and the baby?" All the joy he'd previously felt had dissipated, to be replaced with a cold fear that gripped his heart and squeezed tightly.

She nodded. "We're both fine. Got a clean bill of health."

"Good. Because I don't know what I'd do if anything happened – to either of you."

They sat in silence for a while, both very aware that upstairs, their friends were trying to come to terms with their loss and endeavouring to work out a way forward. But how did you put something like this behind you? And could you ever be the same people again? There were so many questions that didn't seem to have any possibility of being answered, so many questions that his head was aching with them, Marty thought. He'd checked on Kensi, who was sound asleep, and although he badly wanted to stay beside her, just to make everything was alright, he knew how much she would hate that. So he compromised by sitting by the window for a few minutes and watching her from a distance, and then went back downstairs and then wandered out into the garden. Joe was mowing the lawn, while Caroline was busily weeding a border.

"About time too!" She straightened up and started to brush the dirt off her hands.

"We need to talk."

"Just give Joe a moment to get over here. He'd never say so himself, but he's longing to hear the news." Putting two fingers into her mouth, she let out a piercing whistle, which was heard even above the noise of the mower. "I'm longing to hear all the details. Don't leave a single thing out."

Caroline and her husband Joe had worked for the Brandels since Marty was a baby and they were probably the nearest thing he had to family. Of course, there was his father, but they were still virtual strangers. You couldn't make up for twenty years in the space of a week. And Hetty – well, she was still an enigma. But Caroline and Joe had always been there. Marty knew just how much the news was going to hurt them and wished he could have delegated this task to someone else. Except that would have been cowardly. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his pants and stared hard at a bee circling a lavender bush, seemingly intoxicated by the heady perfume. And then he began to speak, the words coming haltingly, his voice low and uncertain and his eyes fixed on the bush and that stupid bee. It wasn't any easier this way, it would never be any easier, but at least he didn't have to look at them and see the pity in their eyes.

"Oh, son." Despite all the years he'd lived in America, Joe still sounded English, with a comforting Cumbrian burr. He pulled Marty into a hug, patting him on the back. "It's hard, I know. Believe me, I know." Joe released him from the embrace, but let his hand linger comfortingly on the back of Marty's neck.

Caroline stood to one side, fidgeting with the gardening apron tied around her waist. Finally she managed to undo the knot and the garment fell down onto the path. "How's Kensi? Is she alright? Physically, I mean."

"She's just tired out. I've never seen her like this. It's like she's retreating inwards. Away from me." Marty kicked at the gravel fretfully and Joe choked back an exclamation that kicking the stones onto the grass was only going to blunt the mower blades. What did something so inconsequential matter at a time like this? What did it matter at all, in the scheme of things?

"How about I go and sit with Kensi for a bit, while you and Joe take Bobby and go down to the beach? A long walk and some sea air would do you good." Being British, Caroline was a firm believer in the healing powers of fresh air, tea and hot buttered toast. Having dispatched her husband and Marty off in search of the former, she busied herself in the kitchen preparing the latter two. Having no truck with tea bags, she made the tea properly, warming the pot, putting in one spoon of tea per person, plus one for the pot and then stirring just once, in a clockwise direction.

Kensi was lying in bed, staring out of the window with disconsolate eyes, when Caroline came in. "I'm not hungry." All the life seemed to have deserted her voice.

"I don't suppose you are," Caroline agreed. "But you have to eat something. Just one piece of toast and some tea? And then I'll leave you. " Her tone was kind, but it also brooked no dissent.

"Okay." The thought of coffee turned her stomach, but tea sounded soothing, Kensi thought. And even thought she wasn't hungry, the comforting smell of butter melting into hot toast was almost appetising. She sat up in bed and let Caroline prop up the pillows behind her back and then accepted the china cup and saucer gratefully. The first sip tasted like nectar and when Caroline offered the toast, Kensi accepted it gratefully.

"Marty told us what happened."

"I thought he had." Kensi reached out and took another piece of toast and crunched it slowly.

"We're so sorry, Joe and I. We really feel for you. For you both."

"I know." Kensi had seen how they both looked at Marty and it was obvious that they adored him.

"If you ever want to talk about it – at any time, then I'm here." Caroline put down her cup. "You know that Joe and I don't have any children. Well, like you and Marty, there was a time when I was pregnant, only I was knocked down by a car – and I lost the baby. My injuries meant I wasn't able to ever have another one. That was my one and only chance."

Soundlessly, Kensi took hold of her hand and gripped it. There were so many people in the world, walking around, keeping their secrets still.

"Thank you." Caroline squeezed her fingers back. "It still hurts, even after all these years. But I was lucky, Kensi. It nearly tore us apart, in the beginning. We were both hurting so much, and we took it out on each other. And then we got the chance to come out here to start a new life. And that was when the miracle happened – we started to work for the Brandels and that was when I met Marty – six days old he was and newly home from the hospital. And although he never took the place of my baby, he just took that empty place in my heart and filled it. And now I've seen how happy you've made him." She gave Kensi a watery smile.

"He makes me happy too. So very happy." Kensi leant back against the pillows as the tears started to slide down her face.

"And the baby was going to be the crowing joy, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Oh yes."

"Kensi – in my experience, this can either pull a couple apart, or it can bring them closer together. So you make sure you talk to Marty about how you're feeling."

"I will." Kensi leaned into Caroline's embrace. "And I'm so sorry – about your baby, I mean."

"I know." Caroline petted her hair. That had been a black period in her life, there was no denying it. But then she'd held Marty in her arms and all the thwarted love found a place. She couldn't love him any more if he'd been her own flesh and blood. Things often had a way of working out, she'd discovered. And if there was anything she could do to help them work through this, then they only had to ask.

* * *

><p>"Well?" Hetty looked at Callen enquiringly. "Do you have anything to report?"<p>

A week had passed since Kensi and Deeks had taken off on his Ducati. He'd got back from the beach and run straight upstairs and stayed there for the remainder of the day. And the next morning had blandly asked Callen to look after his dog, as they were going off on a road trip. Kensi was still nowhere to be seen. They hadn't said where they were going and if truth be told, Callen suspected they had no clear plans, except to get away and to try to find some peace. There was every possibility that they could be gone for some time. "No word from either of them. You're not telling me that Eric hasn't been tracking the GPS from their cells."

"That would constitute unauthorised use of federal resources, Mr Callen."

"Like I said: you're not trying to tell me Eric hasn't been tracking their GPS?"

"Of course he has." Sam had no time for playing games. "Otherwise there's no way Hetty would be so calm. Last reported position was in Death Valley. They're probably boiling their brains out as we speak."

"I've been considering making some discrete enquiries about the possibility of using subcutaneous transmitters." There was no way that Hetty was ever going to admit to being worried, even if she was barely sleeping. "They might prove rather useful.

"You're really considering micro-chipping Deeks, like he's some mutt? Come on Hetty, that's a bit cruel, even for you."

"What makes you think Mr Deeks would be the only agent to be chipped? Perhaps I should remind you that you were kidnapped also, Mr Hannah. And seeing you are here, and Mr Deeks is absent, perhaps you should be the test subject?"

"Why not just look in that dossier Ziva brought from Washington?" he parried. "Seems Operation Frankenstein had plenty of experience keep track of its agents remotely. Why waste all that hard work and all those tax dollars?"

"Why indeed? A very commendable idea, Mr Hannah. Perhaps you'd like to make a start? I'll expect a detailed summary and preliminary recommendation by the close of play today." Too late, Sam realised that he'd walked straight into a trap. He eyed the file dubiously and was about to ask Callen for assistance when he realised he was alone and that Callen and Hetty were going upstairs to Ops. If he hadn't known better, he would have suspected they'd arranged the whole thing. Oh well, at least it would take his mind off worrying about Kensi and Deeks. Not that he would ever let on that he was remotely concerned.


	9. Chapter 9

_well, here I am in the beautiful Lake District - home of Beatrix Potter and possibly the most famous plot bunnies of all time: Peter Rabbit and his sisters, Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail. And not forgetting his cousin, Benjamin. Who can tell how they might influence my own crew of Evil, Slushy, Randy, Devious and Crack-fic? Probably best not to ask, I think._

* * *

><p>Having slept most of the previous day, Kensi awoke early the next morning. The bed felt strangely empty, but she discovered that this was not because Marty had slept elsewhere, but because he was perched precariously on the far-side. He'd seemed almost afraid to touch her last night, she remembered, as if she'd suddenly become a different person, someone much frailer, and who might shatter if handled too roughly. She reached over and touched his shoulder gently, rolling him onto his back and then pressed the length of her body against him, resting her head on his shoulder and letting one arm lie across his stomach. In an instant, the slightly strained look fled from Marty's face and he made a small sound of pleasure even as he moved instinctively towards her, craving her touch. That small gesture settled it for Kensi: if they stayed here, they would drive each other mad, like two opposing magnets. They had to get away, if they were to have a chance of surviving as a couple. The baby had been a tangible manifestation of their love, and it would be a betrayal if she allowed the miscarriage to destroy everything they'd once shared. All at once Kensi was fired with a new drive and determination and she knew what she had to do.<p>

"Joe?" he was sitting in the kitchen, drinking a mug of tea and reading a day-old copy of _The Times_. Kensi had once made the mistake of calling it _The London Times_, only to be gently informed that this was the genuine and original article, and as such was only ever correctly referred to as _The Times_. It was the other, regional varieties that had to be qualified by a place-name. There had been a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he made this pronouncement, but Kensi had not repeated the error.

"Kensi." Joe folded the paper neatly and laid it down on the table. "It's good to see you up. How are you?" She was looking pale, but determined, he thought approvingly.

"I've been better," she admitted. "I still feel like crawling back into bed and pulling the covers over my head, but that would be self-indulgent."

"Sometimes you've got the right to indulge yourself."

"Only this wouldn't be positive. I can't hide forever, I've got to get past this." Kensi was careful not to say "get over this", because that was an impossibility. "And I need to make sure Marty's going to be right there beside me. But I don't think we can do that here."

"So how can I help?" Joe sat back in his chair and regarded her gravely.

"Can you check over the Ducati? I think a road-trip could be the best thing for both of us right now. We'll just throw a few things in the panniers and see where we end up." Kensi chewed nervously on her bottom lip, watching Joe carefully for his reaction to her somewhat impetuous plan. She knew it was crazy, but they both needed to spend some time alone together, in some place where there were no memories to remind them of what might have been, and this was the best idea she could come up with at short notice – just getting out of LA and seeing where the road took them, with no plans or expectations to get in the way. Time alone together, to try to work out where they were going in life, was what she craved more than anything else.

"Hitting the open road, eh?" Joe's face broke into a smile. Kensi couldn't have come up with anything more guaranteed to please Marty if she'd thought for a week. "He's been longing for an excuse to give that bike of his a really good run and see what it's capable of. Just don't let him go too fast, will you?" All too clearly Joe could recall the days when Marty had got his first trail bike and seemed to come off it just about every time he took a hill too fast – which he always did. The boy had come home covered in mud and bruises every day for a week.

"What makes you think I'll even let Marty drive in the first place? He's got a couple of cracked ribs and is supposed to be taking things easy." In her mind, Kensi could see a road running through the desert, stretching out before her, long and straight, leading onwards to some mystical destination. Only it wasn't reaching the end that was important – it was how you got there and what you learned along the way. She could almost feel the familiar throb of a motorcycle engine and experience the exhilaration of revving up the engine, containing the power as it built up, watching the rev counter and then releasing the bike so that it sped forward, soaring like an arrow shot from a bow. In a time when life was spiralling wildly out of control, the prospect of being able to take control of something was very alluring. And above all, she needed to travel hopefully.

Which was how Kensi now found herself, sitting atop Dante's View and watching the sun set over Death Valley. Perched on a rock, with Marty sitting behind her, his arms wrapped securely around her waist, she was starting to come to terms with life again. It wasn't going to be quite the life she had planned, but it could still be a good life. Of that she was quite certain.

"Happy?" Marty leaned forward and his breath tickled her ear.

Kensi covered his hands with her own. "It's peaceful up here, just looking out across the world." Far below, she could see the white shimmering sands of the Badlands. The silence was almost absolute and she felt as if they were the only people in the world. They were here together and nothing else mattered.

"We've got a choice to make. We can go back to the Inn, or we could just find somewhere to camp out for the night."

"So, you're asking me to choose between a luxury hotel, or a night out under the stars with you, on hard rock?"

"You could have both." His arms tightened around her waist. "You can have whatever you want."

She knew what he was trying to say. "How about we have moon and the stars and then sneak back into the Inn and relax in that spa pool? Let's just have it all." Right now, Kensi wanted to grab life with both hands.

"Your wish is my command." Marty had always loved the desert – the hot, dry heat, the solitude and the long vistas seemed to leach away the stresses and strains of life. Kensi's idea of getting away from LA had been a lifesaver. Their relationship was back on track again, and while there would always be that residual kernel of regret, over the past few days they had managed to find a way forward.

"Does that mean I get to drive the bike back down again?" Kensi stood up and took one last look at the horizon, as the sun gave one last, desperate flash of radiance that lit up the night sky, softening the encroaching darkness with shades of vermillion and violet.

Heaving a deep sigh, Marty fished in his back pocket of the keys and tossed them over to her. "The things I do for love."

"I've got one more favour to ask. Just one, I promise."

"This sounds ominous." Marty raised a questioning eyebrow. "Okay, hit me with it."

"Any chance we could take a slight detour and go back to LA via Pendleton?"

Well, he'd known this day had to come. It was only natural that Kensi would want to see her Mom, especially at a time like this. It didn't mean he had to like it though. Only Mart would move heaven and earth to make sure Kensi didn't find out how incredibly purgatorial he found the mere idea. "Sure, baby girl. We can do that. No problem." _I can smile and make nice with your Mom and ignore the insults. Because that's how much I love you._

"You are so sweet." Kensi's lips were dropping butterfly kisses onto his neck and Marty had the very definite idea that they might be staying up on top of the mountain for some while longer. "I'll find some way of making it up to you, I promise."

_How about we find some arsenic and put it in your Mom's coffee? That would work for me. _"Maybe we could stop off in Vegas first? Just for a couple of nights… ?" There was something he wanted to do there, and this was the perfect excuse.

It seemed impossible that the bright lights and 24 hour a day lifestyle of Las Vegas was only a short drive away, Kensi thought. Here she was, right in the middle of one of the most elemental places she'd ever been and yet in just a few hours she could be standing in the middle of the Strip, while the neon blared all around her and the air was full of the sounds of a myriad of slot machines, and the pirate ship outside Treasure Island fought its familiar battle every hour, on the hour. It was like an exercise in contrasts. But she was learning to accept change more willingly, and maybe a little hedonism wouldn't be such a bad thing. If Death Valley was where they had come to terms with their loss, then maybe Vegas could be the place where they started their new lives together?

* * *

><p><em>What on earth could they be planning to do in Vegas? Take in a show? Visit the Secret Garden of Siegfried and Roy? Gamble away all Marty's millions?<em>


	10. Chapter 10

The throaty purr of an expensive car was what caught Allison Blye's attention first. She was out in her garden, dead-heading some roses and pondering over the ever-present infestation of greenfly when it pulled up in front of her house. Straightening up with a small moan as her back protested with a painful twinge, she noticed the car was a brand-new Jaguar convertible, with scarlet paintwork and a caramel leather interior. And that it was being driven by her daughter.

"Have you been playing the lottery, darling?" Her voice was light and teasing.

"Hi Mom. No, we bought this in Vegas." Kensi gave the steering wheel a proprietorial pat, only too aware that half the street had suddenly decided that their gardens needed urgent attention and were rubbernecking in good style.

Allison blanched, having a wholesome fear of gambling in all its forms. Kensi's father had been rather too fond of games of poker with his buddies, something which she had striven to dissuade him from. "Please tell me you weren't stupid enough to let that man persuade you into gambling? It's all very well for him, with all that money lying in the bank, but you can't afford to lose. And you always lose, in the end. How do you think those casinos make their money?" _Oh darling, what are you getting yourself into here?_

"We didn't gamble, Mom_." Not much, anyway. We set a limit, and we stuck to it. Me at the roulette table, feeling like a heroine in a James Bond movie and Marty at the cheap slots, like some little kid._ "And his name's Marty, remember?"

"I remember." The look on Allison's face said it all and Kensi realised just how right she'd been to come along by herself in the first instance. Fixing a bright smile on her face, she got out of the car and stroked it lovingly.

"Isn't it beautiful?" _Come on, Mom – can't you just let me be happy? Can't you be happy that I'm happy?_

"It's very nice." The words "_if you like that sort of thing_" hung unspoken in the air between them.

"Marty bought it for me."

"That's very generous of him. But then he doesn't exactly have to worry about money, does he?"

Kensi had realised many years ago that no man was ever going to be quite good enough to reach Allison's exacting standards. But what on earth was the point in complaining about the fact that Marty had inherited the controlling share of his family's business? His family's extremely successful business. It wasn't as if he sat at home, counting his golden pennies like some eccentric miser, or even lived the hedonistic life of a playboy – no, the guy went out and worked damned hard, putting his life on the line rather too often for comfort.

"It was a gift, Mom. And I love it. And I love Marty." _So you'd better get used to it. _"He's a good man and he loves me. He's not like Jack."

Jack, who had superficially met all Allison's standards, being a Marine, an older, more experienced man and who came from a perfectly ordinary family. Jack, with his dark past and his penchant for belittling her daughter. The abuse which had started off as verbal had soon become physical as well, but Kensi had hidden both equally well, telling herself that it wasn't Jack's fault, but her own, taking all the blame for his sadism onto herself. For years Allison had stood by helplessly as Kensi had started to retreat inwards, becoming defensive and introverted. The full story had only come out a few months ago, after Jack had taken Allison and some friends hostage, and then blown his brains out in front of Kensi. He'd been controlling and manipulative right up to the end and it had almost torn Kensi's fledgling relationship with Marty apart. Ever since Jack, Allison had been wary of any man who had tried to work his way into Kensi's heart. She didn't want to have to stand by and see her daughter get hurt all over again.

"I know, darling." Allison put her arm around Kensi's shoulders. "And it's lovely to see you. Such a surprise."

"We had a few days off, and I thought it would be good to come over so we could talk about the wedding." Kensi was good at prevarication and telling half-truths. She spent half her working life perfecting the skill after all.

"We?" Allison looked carefully at the car, almost as if she expected Marty to suddenly pop open the trunk and appear like a rabbit out of a hat.

"Marty will be by later on. He's catching up with a buddy down at the beach."

"Oh Kensi – you know that beach is off-limits to everyone except Marine personnel." Already Allison had visions of the repercussions, including the rather tempting image of her putative son in law being lead off in handcuffs. Sure, the neighbours would talk (they probably were doing that already) but she could get over that, if it meant Kensi finally saw the light. Why couldn't she find a nice, ordinary man, with an everyday, safe job - like an accountant? And then settle down and have babies? _Why does Kensi always insist on doing things the hard way and making life difficult for herself? Why does she have to be so like her father?_

"I know, Mom. And so does Marty. Come on, give him a break. He's a federal agent, like me. He doesn't go around breaking the law for the sake of it." _I can't remember if I ever told her that Marty's a qualified lawyer? Mind you, Mom would probably hold that against him too, for not sticking to it._ "He's meeting an old friend of ours, called Gibbs. He was a Gunnery Sergeant here at Pendleton."

"Gibbs? Not Jethro Gibbs, surely?" Allison Blye stopped dead in her tracks. "Tall, with brown hair and piercing blue eyes?"

"He's got grey hair now, but yes, that's him. He said he knew Dad."

"Oh, your dad and I were good friends with the Gibbs'." Allison's eyes grew misty as she thought back over the years. "And you used to go over and play with Kelly. You were both about the same age. Don't you remember?"

"Kelly? She was Gibbs' daughter? My Gibbs?" Kensi could remember the day Kelly and her Mom were killed – how scared all the other kids in her class had been and the way their own mothers had appeared at the school to take them home early – along with a platoon of Marines. For a few days, no-one had known if the shooting had been a random attack, and the Corps wasn't taking any chances. It looked after its own – and it looked after their children too. "He said he knew dad. Said he was a good man." It was strange to think of Gibbs as being a father. Stranger still to think she'd known him as a child.

"They were best friends. Jethro was best man at our wedding."

* * *

><p><em>Details of Jack and Kensi's relationship and its messy end can be found in my story <strong>Former Glory<strong>._

_Kensi and Kelly are roughly the same age and as both have/had connections with Pendleton, I've taken the liberty of making them friends. Which means we may just see a little of Gibbs' fatherly side coming out. Is Allison about to meet her match?_


	11. Chapter 11

_This is especially for Frances... hope you enjoy!_

* * *

><p>The waves were sweet, breaking perfectly and giving some of the best rides Deeks could remember. He was taking things fairly easy, on account of the fact his ribs were still tender, but all the time he was aware that this might be the only opportunity he would ever have to surf this particular beach. Gibbs was a decent surfer, old school, riding his board like a pro, in there for the long haul, and a rare grin broke across his face as Deeks finally succumbed to the temptation and started doing 360 degree turns just as the wave broke. He'd forgotten how free the surf could make a man feel.<p>

"You had enough yet?" The sun was starting to dip down towards the horizon, and despite their wetsuits the chill of the water was starting to be felt.

"One more ride, and then I'll be in." Deeks shook his head like a puppy and water droplets flew through the air.

"If you had a decent haircut, you wouldn't need to do that. I've got a razor in my wash-bag – could have you fixed up in no time."

"It wouldn't make any difference. Allison would still hate me. Heck, I could come in with the Congressional Medal of Honour and she'd give me that look – like I'd just stepped in dog shit and trodden it all over her carpet." They were sitting astride their boards, waiting for one last wave, for the perfect end to the day.

"She still does that? Tried it with me once. Didn't try it again."

"How the hell did you manage that?"

"Asked her if her haemorrhoids were bothering her." Allison had confided to Shannon Gibbs that ever since her pregnancy, she had suffered from piles and was screwing up her courage to have an operation. One evening, after a couple of beers too many and Gibbs had let fly with the rejoinder. He'd thought Shannon was going to have an accident on the sofa – her bladder hadn't been the same since Kelly's birth.

Deeks just about fell off his board laughing. He didn't know which was funnier – the idea of Allison with haemorrhoids or Gibbs calling her out on it. "You want to try that one on her again?" _Maybe I should take her some Preparation H as a gift?_

"Might just do that." Gibbs surveyed the ocean. "Looks like this could be it. You ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

The two men were silhouetted by the setting sun as they started to paddle forwards and then, as the wave started to crest upwards, in one smooth movement they were standing upright on up the boards and guiding them inwards. Gibbs steered a straight path, finding a clear route towards the shore, while Deeks darted across the breaker, getting every last ounce of energy out of the ride. They were a study in contrasts, calm and collected, versus impetuous and daring. It was tempting to go out for another last ride, and then another one, but they'd agreed this would be the last ride and it had been a good one. Besides which, it had been a long day and they were both bone-weary. With regret, Deeks picked up his board and trudged back up the beach.

"Good place." _Trust the Marines to keep it to themselves. It might even be worth visiting Mommie Dearest again if I can wangle my way back onto this beach._

Gibbs parked his butt in the sand and pulled two beers from the cooler. "One of the best. Glad to be able to share it with you." He took a long pull and watched as the sun started to sink into the ocean in an orange immolation. "It's been a long time since I've been out surfing."

"We should do it again. Next time you're over here."

"I'd like that." Gibbs finished his beer. "You ready to go face Mrs B?"

"Couldn't you just pull my toe nails out and be done with it?" Marty flopped back onto the sand and stared up at the sky. "She hates me. I've tried being charming, I've tried being polite. I've tried. Believe me, I've tried. And now I'm fed up."

"Have you tried talking to her?" It was only because the younger man was too far away that Gibbs did not smack him on the back of the head. That, and the fact that Deeks appeared to have had rather a lot of serious head injuries in the past, which gave even Gibbs pause for thought.

"And saying what, exactly? That I love her daughter and want to make her happy?"

"It would be a start, don't you think?"

"I guess." Deeks sat up and took a long swallow of his beer. "And if that doesn't work, I could just tell Allison what I think of her. And then run like fuck before she's got a chance to get her broomstick out of the closet." He drained the bottle and looked at the cooler enquiringly. "You _are_ the designated driver, right?" Only there wasn't enough alcohol in the world to make the upcoming meeting anything other than a chore to be endured and unfortunately he was all out of mind-altering drugs at the moment.

"You _are_ the man going to meet his prospective mother-in-law, right?" Gibbs could feel the palm of his hand itching to clip that shaggy head.

"And you've done this four times? Jesus wept."

"So did I, when I met the last two," Gibbs confessed. The last one had looked at him like she'd wanted to crucify him into the bargain. And that was before the divorce. God alone knew what she would do to him now. Shannon's mother had been bad enough, and it had all gone steadily downhill from there on in.

"Maybe we could bring her out here, and then accidentally let her drown? Or let a shark get through the nets?" The beer had gone straight to Deeks' head.

"Naw. Any shark with an ounce of self-respect would spit her back out again."


	12. Chapter 12

_Last day of the holiday today... and then tomorrow we return to Scotland. I'll miss the quiet solitude and fabulous scenery of the Lakes. Not to mention the ice cream. Readers of my other story, **I'm Not In Love** may have noticed a few ice cream references creeping in there!_

* * *

><p>Gibbs reached out and clapped the younger man on the shoulder. "If it's any consolation, DiNozzo is going to have it ten times worse when Eli David finds out."<p>

"Can I just point out that Ziva's father lives in an entirely different country? On a different continent? Several time zones away? It's not like he can just get in the car and few hours later, there he is, sitting on the doorstep."

"On the plus side, Allison doesn't have dozens of highly trained Mossad operatives just waiting for her to say the word and it's 'bye, bye Tony time'. So it could be worse."

"Yeah, she's just got her coven." Deeks got up and looked longingly at the ocean. "I'm never going to win with her, so we might as well just get it over with."

"One suggestion – take off the wetsuit and put on some proper clothes. Apart from that – prepare to die." Gibbs knew all about mothers –in-law – he had been there before. Too many times. And he'd never learned. Not one damn time. Not with the mothers or the daughters. Each time he met a woman, he thought this was it – this time he'd be lucky. And apart from Shannon, he'd been wrong every single time. Maybe the problem was that he was a one-woman guy and he should have quit while he was ahead? Except that he just couldn't help himself. Because each time he thought he might be able to recapture what he'd once had, and then lost. And there was a huge chasm in his life that he was only too aware of, that gnawed at him. So, despite all the bad experiences, Gibbs kept on hoping. Just like everyone who has ever loved and lost.

* * *

><p>"Kensi tells me you're insisting on having a Catholic service." From the tone of her voice, it was clear that Allison Blye rated this somewhere worse the ritual sacrifice of cute baby animals.<p>

"Hi, Mrs Blye. It's nice to see you too." Marty wasn't even across the threshold, and already the barrage had begun. _And she'd picked a great place to start. Talk about having to gird up your loins. Of course, that would be the only action his loins would be seeing for a while. There was nothing more guaranteed to put a man off sex than the thought of his prospective mother-in-law sleeping in the next room. Or not sleeping, and standing there with a glass pressed to the wall and listening for any suspicious creaking of the bed._

"Hi honey." Kensi flung herself into his arms and clung on for grim death.

"She's been here for hours," Allison said accusingly.

"I got caught up. With an old friend of yours – Jethro Gibbs?" To Marty's everlasting surprise, Allison Blye flushed.

"Kensi did mention something about that." She craned her neck to look over his shoulder. "Is that him out there – in the van?"

_She actually sounds quite excited_, Marty thought. _Almost human, in fact_. "Yeah, we put the bike in the back. You can't really take a surf board on a bike, you see…" His voice trailed off as a look of horror placed itself uncompromisingly on Allison's face as she watched Gibbs wheel the Ducati out of the van.

"I hope you never take my daughter on that machine. They're death traps. Do you know what paramedics call them? Donor cycles, that's what." _My little girl – on one of those machines. You could have killed her. Don't you know you're supposed to take care of her?_

"Mom, I drove the bike for most of the way. On account of the fact Marty's still recovering from those broken ribs." _Oh God, I really wouldn't blame him for walking straight out of here, getting on that bike and literally riding off into the sunset. _"And I'm old enough to make my own decisions." I'm a grown woman and I can take care of myself

Mother and daughter stared at each other with equally set expressions on their faces and uncompromising stances and with a sinking heart, Marty realised how incredibly alike they were.

"How about I just give Gibbs a hand?" he suggested cravenly, but Kensi was holding onto the waistband of his jeans.

"I think Mom's got something she wants to say to you. Don't you Mom?"

To her credit, Allison knew when she was beaten. "Why don't you come in and have a cup of coffee? And then we can talk properly." _Inside, with the doors shut, so that the neighbours don't hear everything._ For the first time, she took a good look at the man her daughter was going to marry and repressed an exclamation of horror. "Is that a black eye?" Her fingers reached up tentatively.

Marty moved his head before she could touch him. "Yeah. And it's still kind of sore."

"You got that when you were kidnapped?" Hearing about it, and seeing the evidence were two different things.

"That and a couple of cracked ribs and a bang on the head that knocked me out cold." Marty gave her his most charming smile, the one with not an ounce of sincerity behind it. "All in a day's work, Mrs Blye."

It was wasted, as Allison's attention was firmly focused on the man walking up her path, who was still as tall and handsome as she remembered. And even if his hair was now grey, his eyes were as piercing as ever.

"Jethro." Her voice seemed to caress each syllable. "It's been a long time."

"Allison." Gibbs stood on the doorstep and nodded at her. "Are you going to give them your blessing and let them have the wedding they want, or are you going to force them to go behind your back? It's your choice." His voice carried on the still evening air, just as he had intended it would. _She looks good. Damn good. Maybe I can leave the whole mother-in-law business up to Deeks – and just concentrate on the mother?_ "Is that coffee I can smell?"

A thought struck both Kensi and Deeks simultaneously – Allison Blye was a redhead. And Gibbs had a legendary fondness for redheads.

"Coffee and maybe a shot of something stronger to go in it – just like the old days. Remember?" Allison held out her hand invitingly.

_Okay, someone slap me, because this is not real. This is not happening. I refuse to believe I am watching my mother flirting with a man. With Gibbs! And that just makes it worse._

"Oh, I remember." Gibbs let her lead him indoors.

_Traitor. Look at him – going like a lamb to the slaughter. One smile from a redhead and he's thinking with his gonads_. Marty turned to Kensi. "Is it just me, or is this seriously wrong?"

"It's fucking screwed up, that's what it is!" Kensi stormed. It was one thing to expect her mother to accept her fiancé, but it was something altogether different for Allison to actually flirt in front of them both. Wasn't it?

* * *

><p><em>Even slushy plot bunny is recoiling in horror at the prospect of Gibbs and Allison Blye getting it together! in fact, he's written down her address and given it to his evil brother...<em>


	13. Chapter 13

Once inside the house, Marty was transfixed by the array of photographs almost covering one entire wall of the living room. Kensi was depicted in every stage of her life, from birth onwards. "It's like the photographic guide to Kensi!" he exclaimed and went for a closer study. "That's never you?" He pointed to a photograph that depicted a sudden transformation from the years of long hair, showing a rather abashed young girl with a pixie-cut.

"That's me, alright. After that unfortunate experience with a fence and some fresh creosote. I told you about it – remember?" Kensi hated that damned 'wall of shame', but nothing she could say could persuade her mother just to have a couple of the cutest photos on show and the rest safely tucked away. "I love looking at them, darling. It's like I've still got you with me," Allison had said at one time, making her only child feel inordinately guilty.

Marty kissed the top of her head. "You don't look anything like a goblin with ringworm, honey. Mind you, in that photo you don't look anything like Kensi either." He continued his survey of the photographs and decided there was at least one from every year of Kensi's life; sometimes two or even three. It was hard not to notice that Jack featured prominently in several and he wondered why Allison had not had the tact to replace them with something else. He was willing to place a very large bet that it would be a cold day in hell before his own features graced that wall.

"Where are all the photos from your childhood, Marty?" Kensi suddenly realised that the Malibu house was distinctly lacking any photographs of the Brandel family. There was the portrait of Maryanne in the hall, but apart from that, there was nothing else. Not one single snapshot, even. "I bet you were the sweetest baby."

"Oh, I was adorable. No, actually I was a skinny little runt. Chris was the handsome one. There used to be photos, lots of them. But after Dad went away, Mom took them down. They're all still there – it's just they're in albums." _We had those family photos all over the place: handsome father, beautiful mother and two cute kids – like we were the American dream. Which we were, I suppose. Until it all went wrong._

"You got those cute ones lying on a fur rug in your birthday suit?" Kensi had this sudden urge to see all those photographs, so that she could imagine what their babies might look like. And for the first time since the miscarriage, she realised that was starting to think positively about things again.

"Sure I do. Had a whole new set taken just last year." Maybe it was time to put a few old photos up again, along with some new ones.

They lingered for a while longer, chatting about the photographs and tactfully ignoring the ones featuring jack, but eventually, there was nothing for it, but to join Allison and Gibbs, who were sitting drinking coffee and reminiscing about old times.

"You've got sand in your hair." Allison remarked the moment Marty parked his butt on a chair. The way she said it made it sound as if he'd brought in fleas at the very least.

"We've been at the beach. I've got sand in places you don't discuss in front of ladies," Gibbs remarked. "You want to play nicely, Allison?"

Transfixed, Marty watched in fascination as Allison managed to actually smile at him. It was completely insincere, of course, but she was definitely making an effort. People really weren't kidding when they said Gibbs had the weird fascination for women.

"Tell me about your wedding plans, then," Allison started, playing nervously with her own wedding ring. _This is my baby, getting married. To a man I hardly know. And they don't want me involved. It's like I'm not important, that I don't matter. He's taking her away from me and we used to be so close. She used to visit all the time, before she got involved with him._

"We've not really made any plans, as such," Kensi said. "Except that it'll be a church service. A Catholic service."

"But you're not Catholic!" Allison couldn't help herself.

"I'm not much of anything, Mom."

"Except to me. You're everything to me." Marty took hold of her hand and held onto it tightly. "I'm a Catholic, Mrs Blye. I want to get married in church. Have you got a problem with that?" It was time to take the battle to the enemy, because he'd had enough of standing on the sidelines. _You're happy to have photographs of a man who used to beat up your daughter on your walls, but you don't like me because I'm Catholic? Lady, you've got some issues going on there._

"It doesn't matter how you get married," Gibbs observed. "I've tried all the varieties. Church service, judge's office, back yard. Even had one of those drive-through weddings in Vegas."

Marty choked back a laugh at the image of Gibbs standing before an Elvis impersonator, with A.N. Other redhead, while 'Love Me Tender' played in the background.

"I was tempted to do that as well," Kensi said, looking straight at her mother. "Because I knew you'd make a fuss. I thought we could just get married quietly and then come back and tell everyone and throw a big party."

"So why didn't you?" Allison asked, with a trace of bitterness evident.

"Because Marty persuaded me not to. Because he knew how much I wanted you to be there. Mom – there's only you and me. And it wouldn't be right if you weren't there for my wedding."

Marty gave Gibbs a helpless look. _They're going to start crying now. I can tell. And I'm trapped._

Gibbs stared back blandly. _This is how it starts, kiddo. Better get used to it. From here on in, it's all downhill. Don't say I didn't warn you. Anyway, weddings belong to women. All the man had to do is pay the bills, turn up on time and do as he's told. Apart from that, you're going to be an optional extra. Just accept that right now and save yourself a lot of heartache. _He was trying very hard not to think about the fact that, had things been different, he and Shannon might have been sitting listening to Kelly talk about her wedding. _Would I have been as bad as Allison? Damn right I would. No, I'd have been a thousand times worse._

"I've only got my Dad," Marty said, in an effort to break the awkward silence. "And until a couple of months ago, I thought he was dead. "And then there's Hetty, of course. I'm not sure if she counts?"

"I thought Hetty was your boss?" Allison looked to her daughter for confirmation.

"She is. She's also Marty's great aunt. On his mother's side."

A feeling of devilment seized Marty. "Of course, she's dead. My mother, that is. Actually dead. Not like my father, who wasn't really dead at all, as it turned out, but is alive and remarried. And living in Scotland, of all places. Mind you, I hadn't seen him since I was eleven. We didn't part on the best of terms, seeing as how I'd just shot him." _You might as well know the worst, Allison. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it._ "But then he'd got mixed up in this whole CIA covert operation and they sold him out. He seems like a nice guy, but it's not like I actually know him."

"He's lovely. You'll like him, Mom. He will come over for the wedding, won't he?" Kensi could sense that Marty was reaching the end of his patience with her mother.

"I guess so. Given I'm his only son. Correction – his only living son. You'd have liked my brother, Chris, Mrs Blye: he was a Marine. You'd probably have more in common with him that you do with me. Only he got blown up by a landmine on active service. So he's dead too. We don't have much luck as a family."

"Except in business," Gibbs said. _Kid, if you really want to paint a picture of the world's most dysfunctional family, you're bang on track. What are you trying to do - make Allison hate you more than she already does? Because right now, you're saying all the right things._ "That house of yours in Malibu is something else. You planning on staying there?"

"If Kensi wants to. If she wants to move, we'll move. It's only a house."

"I want to stay." It was his home, and despite the brave words, Kensi knew how attached Marty was to it. He'd lived there, on and off, his whole life. "It's a beautiful house. You should see it, Mom."

"I'd love to. Only I've never been invited." _You're shutting me out of your life, Kensi. You're so happy with Marty - -I can see that. But you won't let me share any of it._

Marty actually felt sorry for her and kind of regretted his smart-ass remarks. "You're family. You don't need an invitation. Does she, Kensi?" It was a big house, after all. And there was always the excuse of doing overtime and staying out of the way for a while. It would be fine.

Kensi felt like she'd never loved him more than at that particular moment. "You heard the man."

"That would be nice. And maybe we could go looking at wedding dresses together?"

"I'd love that, Mom."

It was a start. There was a long way to go, but at least they'd made a start.

* * *

><p>Hetty had thought long and hard about which of her houses would suit Callen and Nico best, before making her final choice: with four bedrooms, wooden floors in the three main reception rooms, and close to good schools, it seemed to tick all the boxes. At least in her mind. She just hoped they agreed. And she had far too many houses anyway. All morning she'd been agitated, barely able to concentrate and even letting her tea get cold. Eventually, at just after midday, Callen came sauntering in, looking as if he didn't have a care in the world.<p>

"Well?"

Callen flopped into a chair, grinning wildly. "I don't know how you do it, and I'm not about to ask. But that house is incredible. The realtor said it was just newly on the market and the vendor was looking for a quick sale."

"That sounds promising." Hetty had drummed it into the real estate company that under no circumstances was her involvement to be mentioned. If Callen had even the slightest suspicion that she was arranging all this, then he would dig his heels in. "Does it seem like somewhere you and Nico could live?"

"It's perfect. I thought it was kind of big, but Nico said that babies are kind of like grand pianos – they take up a lot of room. So, as we're going to have one of each, I guess we're going for a big house."

"You've already got a house," Sam reminded him.

"Unless we want to live underneath the piano, there's not much room for us in the living room. Have you seen the size of a concert grand? Nope, my house is on the market and we're buying this one. Presuming it all goes smoothly."

"That can be a bitch." Sam had never felt so helpless as during the whole long, drawn-out process. The only people it seemed to work for were the lawyers and realtors. For buyers and sellers alike, it was a never-ending nightmare.

Hetty permitted herself a small smile. "I'm sure things will go smoothly. With any luck, you might be moving within a couple of weeks."

Sam shook his head. "No way. These things take time."

"How about a little wager on the side?"

He looked at her curiously. "You know something I don't, Hetty?"

"How could I possible know anything about a house that only came on the market this morning? A house that Mr Callen has only just finished viewing?"

"Because you're sneaky. And devious."

"Why, thank you, Mr Hannah. How very kind of you."

* * *

><p><em>Details of what happened to Kensi's hair can be found in my story <strong>"Snippets Swept From the Floor."<strong> And you cna find out what happened to Marty's mother and brother in **"Personal Questions."**_


	14. Chapter 14

_Ah well, one last day of leave before I return to work. But on the bright side, season 2 is released on DVD this week, so mine should be arriving soon. Of course I pre-ordered them! I think that I'll have to have Friday off to indulge in a little viewing... the court cases can wait. Of course they can. This is much more important. I do think one has to have one's priorities straight._

* * *

><p>"Why, thank you, Mr Hannah. How very kind of you." Hetty looked up to see Eric gesticulating wildly. "It seems that duty is calling once again.. No rest for the wicked."<p>

"Damn skippy there ain't," Sam said underneath his breath and then looked across to where Callen was sitting, still with a goofy grin on his face. "You want to tell me about this house then? And which bank you robbed to be able to afford it?"

"I've got a bit put by," his partner protested.

"Right enough, you saved on rent for years by sleeping here or crashing at my place. That's a few grand in the bank account right away. And what about the big money – where's that coming from?" because a house like that had to cost big time.

"Nico, of course. What did you think Sam – that I'd be too bull-headed and macho to let her use her money – her hard-earned money – to pay for our house. Where we're going to bring up our baby?" He tried not to show how hurt he was by Sam's attitude. Was it possible that the other man was jealous?

Sam could have kicked himself. Nico just seemed so ordinary, albeit in a classy sort of way, that it was easy to forget she was a famous pianist, with a recording history going back over a decade. Clearly, she had more than enough money to just be able to go look at a house and then decide to buy it on impulse. But then Deeks looked like a scruffy beach bum and, when he thought about it, Sam realised few people would look at himself and think "federal agent", rather than "intimidating tattooed guy". Not that the latter was an image he necessarily wished to discourage. "Sorry, G. That came out wrong. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with all this."

"I'm more than okay. It's like our dream house. Mind you, I thought it was kind of big, having four bedrooms. And then Nico said she'd been worried it was a bit small, but that as each bedroom has its own bath, we'd manage." It never ceased to amaze Callen that he and Nico worked so well together: he'd come from a lengthy series of foster homes and she'd been brought up in a mansion similar to Deeks' Malibu home. And yet – they were good together. They were so damned good together they'd made a baby. How about that?

Sam was already worrying about how he and Denise would manage when their baby was born. While their house officially had three bedroom (and one bathroom), the third was so tiny there was little room for much more than a crib and dresser that doubled-up as a changing table. Already Denise was finding it tough going running a house and looking after a very energetic child, with a husband who could be gone at a moment's notice, sometimes for days at a time. Once the new baby came, the price of day care meant that she would become a stay at home mom. She wasn't too happy about giving up her job, but there wasn't a realistic alternative. There were times when Sam was worried sick about how they would manage. But they would manage – somehow. Only sometimes it was hard not to be envious of his team-mates. Especially Callen. For years, the guy had played fast and loose, and now all of a sudden he was settling down and everything was falling into his lap. Not that he didn't deserve it – of course he did. It was just that Sam wished a little of Callen's luck had rubbed off on himself. And then he thought of Kensi and Deeks and realised that all the money in the world couldn't make up for what they had gone through.

"Gentlemen?" Hetty's voice interrupted their thoughts. "If I could see you both in Ops?"

That was the thing about Hetty – she always asked nicely. No matter what the situation, she was invariably polite and controlled. You never had the slightest inkling about what was going to unfold.

"Any word from Kensi and Deeks, Eric?"

The technical operator was studying a computer screen with rapt fascination, while Nell was similarly engaged at another one. "They're on their way back from Pendleton, as we speak." _As fast as they can get here._

"Pendleton?" Sam began to laugh. "And Deeks got out alive? The smart money was on Allison eating him for breakfast."

"Jethro went along to help smooth over the ice." Hetty glanced down at the clipboard she was holding and fidgeted uncomfortably. "It seems that he and Allison Blye are old friends."

"Plus it meant that Deeks could manage to schmooze himself onto that beach and catch some waves." Callen shook his head. "Trust him. He'd get married on a surf board, if he could."

"Except Kensi would have something to say about that. She keeps him on a pretty tight leash." Actually, Eric thought the idea of the groom and best man arriving at a beach side wedding on surf boards was a pretty cool idea. The guests could all be standing there, while he and Deeks zoomed in across the waves… If he could surf, of course. And if Deeks had asked him to be best man in the first place. But apart from that, it was a radical idea. Eric made a mental note to speak to him about it. Well away from Kensi's hearing, of course.

DiNozzo and Ziva sauntered in, carefully keeping a respectable distance between themselves. Along with Gibbs, they'd stayed in LA to help supervise the operation to start closing down Operation Frankenstein for good.

"Gibbs acting as mediator? That I would love to see." DiNozzo briefly tried to contemplate Gibbs as some sort of roving marriage counsellor and failed miserably. Unless the man used his own dismal track record as a sort of "how not to" guide? That might work.

"We've had some disturbing news." Hetty stood up a little straighter and Callen noticed how her fingers tightened around the clipboard. "Another NCIS agent was killed when trying to apprehend a Frankenstein operative."

They'd all hoped that the body count had finally stopped, but they'd been wrong, Sam realised. Would this nightmare ever end? "Who was it?" he asked, hoping that it wasn't someone they knew. That was selfish, but who wouldn't think the same?

"Senior Field Agent Charles Brent."

Callen felt as if he'd been punched in the chest. "Charlie B? One of those bastards killed Charlie B?" They'd worked together for six months, not long after Callen had joined. Charlie had taken him under his wing, mentored him, showed him how not to mess up. And he had four kids. Callen counted the man as a personal friend. "Tell me more. Tell me all the details, because this one's mine."

"


	15. Chapter 15

"Hold that thought," Eric said, looking up from his monitor. "I've got Deeks approaching, at something close to warp speed." He put the camera view up onto the view screen, and they watched as a black motor bike screamed through the streets at highly illegal speeds.

"Miss Jones? Remind me to have a word with Mr Deeks about his driving at a more felicitous time?" Hetty would make damned sure any speeding tickets were paid personally by him, even if his heart was clearly in the right place and he was getting here as fast as possible, just as she'd requested. He just didn't have to enjoy it quite so much. Already he cost her more on medical insurance than the rest of the team put together, without adding traffic violations into the mix.

"Where's Kensi?" Sam just hoped that things hadn't gone so badly at Pendleton that she'd stayed behind.

"Jethro said that she would be coming here by car. It seems they treated themselves to a new Jaguar XK while they were in Las Vegas."

Sam looked sideways at Callen, knowing that was his partner's dream car, bar none. He'd had fond hopes of persuading Hetty that it was essential to his cover. Only Callen was too far down in his thoughts to even register Hetty's last statement. "Could have been worse, I suppose. They could have got married in it, in one of those drive-through services."

Hetty drew in her breath sharply. "Don't even suggest such a thing, not even in jest." The last wedding in the family had been when her niece Maryanne had married Jack Brandel, and she certainly wasn't about to let Marty sneak off and have some nasty little hole-in-the wall, 'quickie' ceremony. No this wedding was going to be perfect and they were going to do things properly. Hetty intended to make very sure of that.

Maryanne had been such a beautiful bride and Hetty had been thrilled to be her bridesmaid. They were more like sisters, rather than aunt and niece, as Hetty had been the family afterthought and was only a few years older than Maryanne. In fact, now she thought about it, she was almost sure that Maryanne's wedding dress was still packed away in a cedar trunk. _Kensi is about the same height and build as Maryanne. Wouldn't it be lovely if she wore her dress? I must have a word with her about that._ Hetty was not normally a sentimental woman, except when it came to weddings, and then she gave free rein to her emotions. She even had a special set of lace-trimmed handkerchiefs that she ept especially for weeping into during services and sometimes the smell of lilies was enough to make her eyes start to water. And while Hetty told everyone this was merely an allergic reaction, the fact was that they reminded her of Maryanne, and the wedding bouquet her niece had made sure landed in Hetty's hands. There was still a pressed reminder of that day, reposing between the pages of the family Bible, marking the Sermon on the Mount. Every time she read that, Hetty remembered Maryanne, and how happy she had been that day. Marty and Kensi were going to have an equally wonderful day – she personally guaranteed that.

Deeks came running into Ops, still clad in his biking leathers, and shaking his hair after the confinement of the helmet. "I told Kensi I'd beat her here. That bike is incredible!" He grinned happily, still feeling the exhilaration from the ride. He'd really have to order another Diavel, and then they could go out together and race properly.

"I know," Hetty said dryly. "Trying to break the land speed record, were we?"

"You told me to get here quickly: I got here quickly." He gave her a disingenuous smile. _I'm here, I'm in one piece and I didn't get pulled over. What more can you ask for?_

"Cool leathers." Eric was more than a touch envious. While Deeks wasn't really his type, plus there was the small matter that he was a) straight and b) engaged to Kensi but those tight pants really were the business.

"Oh yes," Nell agreed dreamily.

Deeks got the very definite impression that his butt was being ogled and it suddenly felt very hot in Ops, comments about the coolness of his gear notwithstanding. "I'll just go and get changed, shall I?"

"Hold that thought, because Kensi's pulling in to the parking lot," Eric announced. _What a hardship, I'll have to put up with looking at your butt for a bit longer, Deeks. You're wasted on Kensi, you really are._ It wasn't that he didn't love his partner George, or even that he even had a thing for Deeks, but in those pants he was just irresistible. At least, that was what Eric told himself and he was sticking to it.

"Sweet set of wheels." Sam gave a low whistle as he watched Kensi get out of the Jaguar. _And she's looking good too. That time away obviously worked._ "You planning on letting her use them on ops?" he asked sneakily and gave Hetty a covert look.

"If we can come to a suitable financial arrangement, why not?" Deeks gave her a searching look. "I still don't seem to have received reimbursement for all that itemised expenditure in Scotland, Hetty. Should I get my accountant to look into it?"

"Miss Jones – remind me to chase that up, will you?" Hetty knew exactly why he'd not received his expenses – because the receipts were still in her desk drawer. She'd rather been hoping that it would escape his mind, but clearly she'd been wrong. For once. It was an unpleasant realisation and not one Hetty was keen to repeat in a hurry. Still, she might get away with it next time.

Kensi came striding in. "I don't want to know how fast you were going," she said, and poked Deeks in the chest.

"I beat you, didn't I? Fair and square."

"Breaking the speed limit is hardly playing fair."

Sam was curious. "Exactly how fast does that thing go?"

"Too fast," Kensi said, a trifle tersely.

"Technically? 155 miles an hour – but I've taken it to 135," Deeks admitted. Kensi just shook her head, but Ziva looked intrigued. It was hard to tell if she was interested in the bike, Deeks, his leather pants or all three, but she was definitely interested.

"Ever thought about taking up a nice, safe hobby, Deeks? Like sky-diving?"

"No thanks, DiNozzo. Sam and Eric took me mountaineering once and that was bad enough." _Actually, it was a complete nightmare. Never again. I'll stick to riding bikes like a complete lunatic._

"Tell me about it." Eric rubbed his jaw tenderly. It had healed nicely, but there were some movements that still gave him pain and which rather limited his private life in certain areas.

"Remind me to schedule some practice sessions for you on the wall, Mr Deeks." Hetty felt it was time she regained the upper hand.

"I'll make sure I do that, Hetty." _Right about the same time that hell freezes over. Besides, I don't want to deprive Callen of the ritual humiliation you seem to love doling out to him._

Callen roused himself from his reverie. "Good to see you two back again. And I don't mean to be rude, but could we get on with the briefing?"

"Miss Jones?" Hetty crooked one eyebrow meaningfully.

Nell had no need to look at her IPad; the details were embedded firmly in her mind. "At 08.00 hours this morning, EST, a man walking his dog reported a body at the rear of the ice rink in Lake Placid, in upper New York state. The local police attended the scene and apprehended a suspect. The deceased was confirmed to be NCIS Special Agent Charles Henry Brent, aged 45. The suspect is Marine Corporal Angela Rishelle. She was found in a catatonic state, holding the head of Agent Brent in her lap. It was no longer attached to his body, which was found some distance away." The room was completely silent, as they struggled to come to terms with this latest in a long line of atrocities carried under the misguided aegis of Operation Frankenstein.

"Fucking hell." Kensi spoke for everyone.

"She decapitated him?" Callen felt his gorge rise at the thought. "What the hell with?"

"A Japanese katana sword was also recovered at the scene." Nell didn't put any of the photographs on the screen. She'd seen some disturbing images in her time, but these were beyond anything she'd ever looked at and it would be a long time before she could blot out the memory. And nobody needed to see them – they could well imagine the scene. But Nell had had to view the photographs; it was part of her job. And she was still struggling to comprehend the fact that anyone could do such a thing to another living person. And then to see Corporal Rishelle sitting so calmly, cross-legged on the grass, cradling the head lovingly… And the worst thing was the expression on Agent Brent's face. He hadn't died peacefully, that much was obvious. They said that a picture painted a thousand words, but Nell couldn't even begin to describe what she had seen. And why was it always dog walkers who stumbled across these gruesome scenes? She was never, ever getting a dog. No way. It wasn't worth the risk.

"A remarkably effective weapon, if used correctly," Ziva said matter of factly and with what the LA team was discovering to be her trademark lack of tack. Or perhaps it just lost something in the translation? "She must have been trained?" _To do such a thing takes great skill and expertise. To do it properly, that is. One downward blow, delivered two-handed and with a finely forged sword will result in instant death. But if you get it wrong, or if the victim struggles, it is messy. And it really hurts your wrists too. Not as much as it hurts the decapitee. Is there such a word? I probably shouldn't ask that, should I? Not now, anyway. Later, perhaps?_

Nell accessed the file. "Corporal Rishelle is an expert in several branches of martial arts. Particularly Kendo, where she's a 5th dan."

"Not someone to get on the wrong side of," DiNozzo remarked. "And she's gone all silent on us? Like EJ?"

"Exactly like EJ. Looks like the built-in failsafe is working just fine." Unannounced, a man walked in on the briefing, which was enough to mark him as someone with a high level of clearance. Either that, or he was just plain rude.

"CI-Ray. What a charming surprise." DiNozzo had insincerity down to a fine art. "And to what do we owe this singular honour? Not enough spooky stuff going on?" _Where do you get off trying to poach NCIS business? And why don't you ever wash your hair, man? That greasy look does you no favours and it's not as if you're auditioning for a part in Mad Men, you know._

"I'm taking this one off your hands." Ray Cruz walked up to Hetty and extended his hand. Hetty just looked at him, her own hands firmly and immovably at her sides.

"Like hell you are."

Callen could have kissed her. If she asked, he would even have married her on the spot. Ziva, on the other hand, had never felt less like kissing anyone in her life. With the possible exception of Deeks, who really did fill out those leather pants to perfection.

* * *

><p><em>Details of the mountain expedition that went so very wrong for Sam, Deeks and Eric can be found in my story <em>_**Comes A Time**__._

_CI-Ray - yuk. What does Ziva see in him? Beats me._


	16. Chapter 16

_And it's a welcome return for devious plot bunny in this installment._

_Plus a rather overdue smack for CI-Ray..._

* * *

><p>"Let's be reasonable here," Ray started, in a placatory tone of voice that riled Hetty instantly.<p>

"No. Let's start off with you introducing yourself in a civilised manner, shall we? There's no point in getting off on the wrong foot deliberately, after all."

"Ray Cruz. CAI." He flashed his ID at a singularly unimpressed audience.

"I'm presuming you know who I am?"

Ray nodded, seemingly mesmerised by this small but powerful lady.

"Excellent. Then you'll know I'm in charge around here. You just keep on remembering that and we'll get along just fine." She gave him a smile that showed a lot of teeth, but contained absolutely no warmth or sincerity.

"Yes ma'am." Ray correctly judged that some sort of response was called for.

"And next, you can do me the courtesy of remembering exactly where you are. In the Operations Room of NCIS, Los Angeles. An area of restricted access, to which you have no automatic right of entry. So get the hell out of here. Now. I'll come and speak to you when I'm good and ready and not one minute before."

It was on record that the last time Hetty had lost her temper was during the immediate aftermath of 7/11, at the time when the President was conspicuous by his absence from public view. Hetty and many others had argued forcefully that he should be stepping up and providing a rallying point for the nation, but her arguments had fallen on deaf ears. Those higher up had decreed that the leader of the free world should remain out of sight and they were not budging on that. In vain, Hetty had argued that the endless repetition of TV footage showing the President reading a children's book about a little goat and seemingly ignoring his aides' desperate attempts to get him to comprehend the gravity of the situation was seriously detrimental, to not only to morale but to the international reputation of the country. It was one of the very few battles she had lost. Ever since then, bets had been laid as to when the next eruption would occur and the pot had reached legendary proportions. Sam took a careful note of the time, for such small details could be essential in determining the eventual winner.

"Why are you still here?" DiNozzo asked. "Didn't you here what the lady said?" He'd rarely enjoyed a dressing-down so much. Hetty had being patronising down to a fine art and it had been a thing of rare beauty to observe.

"Scoot. Skedaddle." Hetty waved her hand dismissively.

Ray tried to make a dignified retreat, but exited at what could only be described as a fast scuffle.

"That's the best the CIA could come up?" Marty shook his head sadly. "No wonder they've got an image problem."

"You just can't get a decent spook these days."

"He's not that bad," Ziva protested, somewhat weakly, it had to be admitted.

"Name one good thing about him?" Kensi invited and Ziva tried very hard.

"On second thoughts, don't bother," DiNozzo said. "She had a bit of a thing for him." Although God alone only knew why. From the looks of things, even Ziva wasn't too sure. Not one single person back in Washington had been able to work that one out. One of Abby's friends had even made her a Voodoo doll that bore an uncanny resemblance to Ray and she took unholy delight in exposing it to various noxious substances in her lab..

"It was more of a fling than a thing," Ziva said feebly. _So he caught me at a moment of weakness? Not even I can be perfect all the time. And it wasn't even as if he was particularly good in bed. Rather like a street-walker. Or should that be pedestrian? Not like Tony. Nothing like Tony. But then, nobody's like Tony._

"Whatever." Callen was standing staring at the photograph of Angela Rishelle. "Why does he want her so badly? What is it about Corporal Rishelle that frightens the CIA? What's she got that they want?"

"She's definitely a confirmed Frankenstein operative?"

Nell nodded. "Oh yes. No doubt about that. Her name's on the list and she's been AWOL for the past month."

Callen started to pace around the briefing table. "EJ was sent after the first two operatives, presumably under orders to kill them, but she's in custody now – in an unresponsive state. This CI-Ray guy was sent after Rishelle." He spun around and placed both hands on the table, staring directly at Hetty. "He's one of them."

"He's not in the file."

"And we always believe everything we read, do we?" _I'm right on this, you know I am._

A slow smile began to creep across Hetty's face. "Perhaps there was a certain sin of omission in that dossier?"

"If CI-Ray knows something pertinent to the investigation and doesn't do anything, that's technically a sin of commission," Marty said.

Kensi was curious. "So what's the difference?"

"Sins of omission aren't nearly so much fun as the other types of sin." That was about as much as DiNozzo could remember, but then his catechism classes had been a long time ago.

"You have types of sin?" Ziva asked curiously.

"If by 'we', you mean the Church – then yes, we do." _Of course, some of us just cover everything by a blanket 'I have sinned in thought, word and deed' confession and then leave the priest to fill in the blanks. That's the great thing about working for a security organisation – so much is classified. Actually, I wonder if not confessing fully is a sin of omission? But it would take so long and then I'd probably have to shoot the poor father afterwards. And that would be another sin. Kind of self-perpetuating._

"Someone actually sat down and put them all into lists? Crazy." She shook her head in wonder. "And you believe this, Tony?"

"Perhaps it would be best to leave the doctrinal debates to another time?" Hetty suggested and looked across at Callen, who was still deep in thought. "Does anything else occur to you, Mr Callen?"

"That cylinder. The one we got from Stoddart's arm. What did the full analysis reveal?" There was something nagging at the back of his mind, something that he couldn't quite manage to form into a coherent thought.

"A fairly standard microchip tracking device, but with some unusual modifications. After the initial purpose was confirmed, no further investigation was deemed necessary." Nell summarised the lab report and looked up. "But I know a quick way we can find out exactly what those modifications were." She looked directly at Deeks, who experienced a familiar sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Don't tell me," he pleaded. _Seriously – don't tell me. The family business is involved in this, isn't it? Well we are on the Department of Defense's list of preferred developers of technology. I really shouldn't be surprised. Only I am. Yet again._

She nodded. "Made by BB Technologies. Sorry, Marty."

"Can I at least go home and get changed? Uncle Bernie hates it if I just turn up in street clothes, far less dressed like this. And he pretty much hates the fact that I've got the controlling shareholding so I try not to wind him up too much."

Hetty waved her hand dismissively. "Go on. And I suppose Ms Blye should go with you. I've arranged for Corporal Rishelle to be transferred into our custody. And for an independent assessment to be made of her psychological condition." It wasn't that she didn't trust the British doctors, but right now, Hetty was determined to go back over every single detail of the dossier and all the case reports, just in case anything else had been missed.

"Janet." Callen stood up straight. "Has anyone told Janet – Charlie's wife?"

"Not yet. You don't have to do this, Mr Callen."

"Oh yes, I do." He took the address Eric had hastily scribbled on a Post-It note and strode out of Ops.

"Go with him, Mr Hannah."

"Already on his six." Sam had seen the look of grim determination on Callen's face and knew how much his partner was hurting. This case was personal and Callen would be like a man possessed until he had brought those responsible to justice.

* * *

><p><em>Reviews are most welcome!<em>


	17. Chapter 17

They didn't talk much on the journey over to the Brent's house. Callen drove in a daze, trying to work out what to say, how to break the news. This wasn't the first time he'd had to tell relatives that their loved-one was dead, but it never got any easier. Sometimes, he thought it actually got worse the more times you did it, because you not only had to tell them, you also had the memories of previous unhappy occasions. And you knew that forever after, the family would only think of you as the man who told them their lives had just been destroyed. But it was the last thing he could do for Charlie B, and Callen wouldn't have it any other way. The man was owed this much, at least.

Pulling up outside the house, he sat there for several minutes, trying to find the right words, and yet knowing there were no right words; that there never could be any right words for something so very wrong.

"I can do this, G. If you want me to." The look on Callen's face was mute testimony to his very real grief. Sam had never admired the man more for his courage and fortitude, and above all, for his downright decency and humanity.

"No, I'll be okay. I just need a moment." Callen took a deep breath and said a brief prayer to a God he wasn't even sure existed and then opened the car door and walked up the path, all primed to ruin Janet Brent's life.

"Callen! What a lovely surprise. Charlie's going to be so bummed he's missed you." Janet embraced him and Callen realised she still wore Chanel No. 5. He'd never be able to smell that perfume again without thinking of this moment and feeling sick.

"Janet, this is my partner, Sam Hannah. Can we come in for a minute?"

Her whole body stiffened and her face suddenly froze. "It's Charlie, isn't it? Something's happened to Charlie?"

"It's Charlie," Callen agreed. "Can we go inside, Janet? Please?"

She nodded and turned around, walking as if in a daze. "I'm glad it's you, Callen. You loved him too." Janet stumbled and would have fallen, but Sam was quickly at her side, supporting her, feeling her grief bleed into his body. Callen followed behind and shut the door, blotting out the bright California sunshine.

* * *

><p>"Mr Beale – I'd appreciate it if you could arrange for Dr Getz to be temporarily reassigned to this office. I have the feeling we may be in need of his services."<p>

DiNozzo screwed up his face. "I know Deeks is accident prone – but isn't having your own physician a bit over the top?"_ Jeeze – talk about being over-protective. I know he's some sort of relative, but that's taking things too far._

"Nate's not a medical doctor," Eric explained. "He's a psychologist."

"Now I know I'm in California_. _You've got your own personal shrink?"_ I'm not saying shrinks don't have their place, but I prefer to get my counselling far away from the office, without everybody knowing I can't cope._

"NCIS has a duty of care," Ziva said slowly and immediately Tony felt a twinge of guilt. Sooner or later they were going to have to talk about exactly what had happened to her during the time she was held captive in Somalia. So far, she'd resisted all his attempts to broach the subject, but it wasn't healthy and she was clearly still affected by whatever it was. He had his suspicions, they all did, but hiding the truth wasn't any way to deal with things. Maybe now they were together, they could work through this – together?

"I was actually requesting his presence to do a full psychological assessment Corporal Rishelle and Agent Barrett, Ms David. We need to try to form some understanding of what caused this response and if it can ever be reversed. But you may have a good point there. Some one-to-one sessions could be very beneficial for everyone." _Given everything that has happened in the past few months, it's little short of a miracle my team is still functioning so well. Of course, what I'm really concerned about is the potential for this triggered state of catatonia to be used as a weapon. If the technology was to get into the wrong hands, it could be devastating – entire forces reduced to mere zombies, like something out of a horror movie. _The mere thought was enough to give even a seasoned professional like Hetty a cold shiver right down her spine.

Eric shot Ziva a look of pure, unadulterated hatred. "Way to go, Ziva. I'll make sure the guys know whose bright idea that was." _And I know exactly what he's going to ask me: why did you hide your sexual orientation from your colleagues and how has coming out affected your working relationships. Great. It's nobody's business but mine. My private life is exactly that – private. And it's going to stay that way._

"What did I say?"

"Far too much," he muttered under his breath.

"You're bringing EJ back?" DiNozzo asked, not sure if he liked the idea, or hated it. What with CI-Ray cooling his heels downstairs already, adding EJ to the mix was definitely going to make things interesting between himself and Ziva.

"She is an American citizen. The British authorities agree that it is not appropriate for her to be using the valuable resources of their health-care system. We have, of course, agreed that she should be returned to the United Kingdom to stand trial there, should she ever return to a normal mental status."

"I do not think EJ ever thought normally." Ziva could not stand the woman. "I think those tight pants impeded the flow of blood to her brain." _Although the men seemed to appreciate them. I just wondered how she ever got them on in the first place. And they must have been very sweaty. Not very hygienic. No wonder she was always having showers at work._

"So if EJ and the good Corporal are both sitting in their respective corners, staring at the ceiling, exactly what is this Nate of yours going to accomplish?" DiNozzo wasn't criticising, he was genuinely curious.

"That remains to be seen. Think of it as allowing the mountain and Mohammed to meet on mutually agreed territory." Hetty looked at her watch. "I suppose I really should go and see that rather unpleasant young man from the CIA. I can't think what they are doing, recruiting people like him. Standards have certainly slipped in recent years. And I thought they were concerned with public relations." Shaking her head in disbelief, Hetty left Ops.

"What were you thinking when you took up with him, Ziva?" DiNozzo chided. "And what were you thinking with?"

Nell looked at her in astonishment. "You and CI-Ray? Eeuucch."

"That about sums it up. You're a woman of rare and tender sensibility." He looked at Ziva. "Well?"

"I was confused. He caught me at a weak point. But now I have you."

"Now you have me," he agreed. It had taken a log time – too long. But, like he'd said in Somalia, Tony had always known he couldn't live without her. And now, at last, he didn't have to.

Nell was engrossed in the Operation Frankenstein dossier, going through the details of known agents. "Oh shit!" She clapped her hand over her mouth. "Sorry. It's just that… "

"No need to apologise. We're all big boys and girls here." DiNozzo looked carefully at her. "Seen something, Nell?"

She nodded. "A name. Jack Patterson. He was the original prototype used for Frankenstein, right at the beginning, during a feasibility study. Eric – does Hetty know about this?"

"She can't. She would have said something. He's in the main list?" It didn't seem possible that Hetty could have missed something as vital as that, even with the strain everyone had been under.

"No, it's in one of the appendices. I've got to tell her." Nell ran out of the room, clutching the folder to her chest.

"Okay – you want to tell us exactly who is this Jack Patterson and why he's got Nell so upset?"

Eric leaned back in his chair. "He was a former Marine who took a group of women hostage at Pendelton a few months back, including Kensi's mom. He demanded that Kensi do the negotiations, and when she arrived, Patterson let the women go free, in exchange for Kensi. And then he blew his brains out in front of her." His mouth twisted at the memory. "Oh, and the real kicker to all this is that Kensi and Patterson used to live together." Kensi was already dealing with enough crap, she really didn't need this on top of everything else. It was probably a really good thing that Nate was coming back.


	18. Chapter 18

"You okay about this?" Marty pulled on the suit jacket and scowled at his reflection in the mirror. _God, I look so boring and respectable. And if Uncle Bernie and Uncle Steve had their way, this would be me, every day for the rest of my life. _"These board meetings can be incredibly dull."

"Sure. It's part of the job, isn't it?"

Marty realised she was talking about NCIS and their current mission, but felt he had to make things clear. "Brandel Holdings and the subsidiaries are going to be part of your life, pretty soon." He briefly considered a tie and then decided against it. So what if his uncles would look shocked – he was the majority shareholder after all. And the world wasn't going to collapse just because he went into the office without a tie. He wasn't the most active participant in the company, mainly leaving the day to day running to his uncles, but he did try to put in an appearance at the monthly directors meetings and try as he might, Marty simply couldn't recall any mention of the type of device retrieved from Stoddart. Part of him hoped that Hetty was wrong, but that seemed unlikely.

"A small part. I can put up with that. Even if the one and only meeting I attended nearly sent me into a trance."

"And that was one of the better ones. Mainly because you were there, of course. You distracted me nicely. But you liked my office, didn't you?"

Kensi smiled at the memory – the big, big desk, with the smooth, shiny surface. "I liked it a lot. I'm looking forward to seeing it again." She'd settled on a simple blouse and skirt, but with ridiculously high heels, just to make a point. "Have you told your uncles about us?"

"About the engagement – no, not yet." He saw the face she made. "Aw, come on. It's not like we're close or anything like that."

"They're your family, Marty. That has to mean something."

"It means they wish I'd have the decency to drop dead so they can inherit my shareholding." He caught the horrified expression on her face. "That was a joke. Cousin Emily was the only one with murderous intentions on me. And pretty soon, you'll be my next of kin anyway. I've already changed my will in your favour."

"You've done what?" Sometimes, Kensi really couldn't believe him.

"Changed my will. Why are you looking at me like that? I was a lawyer – briefly. Of course I changed my will. What would Hetty do with another house?" _Even if she has managed to practically give one away to Callen and Nico. Which was really decent of her. She's always had a bit of a soft spot for Callen. It does rather leave poor Sam out on a limb though._

"She could always start a chain of boutique hotels, I guess." Kensi was still struggling to process the news that she was now Marty's sole heir, and therefore heir to several million dollars worth of real estate and stock holdings. "You are serious about this, aren't you?"

"Of course I am. Why are you so surprised?" _What did you think would happen when we got married? I'm going to promise to endow you with all my worldly goods after all._

It was one thing to know your boyfriend was rich, and subconsciously, Kensi supposed she'd always realised that marriage would mean sharing this house, and the income him got from the family business – but to actually be told that you were named as the person to inherit it all rather seemed to be tempting fate. And God knows, Marty did enough of that already. "Did you advise yourself to get a pre-nup as well?"

"Hey, I still can't get over the fact you said 'yes' in the first place. No pre-nuptial agreement, Kensi. We share everything." _I'm not going to set us up to fail. This is it – the real deal. I want a lifetime with you – nothing else._

"It seems like kind of an unequal bargain. You don't get very much."

"I get you. That's all I want. And then one day, we'll give all this to our kids. Okay_?" It's only money, Kensi. Just money. And like the Beatles said – money can't buy me love. Not real love._

It was the first time the subject had been mentioned for days and Kensi was surprised to find that it didn't hurt, in fact it made her feel good. They were going to have a future together and it was going to be great. And children would be a part of that future, of that she was certain. "It's a deal."

"Great." Marty held out his hand. "Coming to enjoy the unparalleled delights of a board meeting, then?"

"Just try holding me back."

As it turned out, the meeting wasn't too bad. Mainly because they managed to miss a large chunk of it, having become somewhat delayed in Marty's office, where a new leather sofa just begged to be tested for comfort (it passed the test with flying colours). And Marty's uncles turned out to be complete sweethearts, hugging and kissing Kensi and welcoming her to the family. Even if Uncle Bernie did keep calling her Fern. Mind you, he'd had several glasses of the very quaffable champagne Uncle Stevie just happened to have in his office. It almost seemed a pity to break up the festive atmosphere by introducing the small matter of the microchip tracker.

* * *

><p>"Tony DiNozzo?" Ray sniffed contemptuously. "You have to be kidding me."<p>

"Do I look like I am kidding?" Ziva stood poised on the balls of her feet, and in actual fact looked as if she was squaring up for a fight.

"The man's a lightweight. Never takes anything seriously."

"Really?" Once again, Ziva wondered what she had ever seen in this man. _Maybe I had PTSD? That could explain it_. "He takes me seriously. He doesn't give me hollow boxes."

"All boxes are hollow. I think you mean empty."

"Empty promises and empty boxes are the signs of a shallow mind."

"You should know. You're the one humping DiNozzo." Ray might have said more, only it was difficult to talk when Ziva David was pressing you into a wall, and thrusting the flat of her hand into your Adam's apple. Not to mention the fact that her knee was exerting a considerable amount of pressure into his groin.

"What did my father promise you?" Her knee pushed in another couple of inches and Ray gulped convulsively. "Tell me."

"I'd listen to the lady. Because right now, she's playing nice. And believe me, you don't want to make her angry. You won't like her when she's angry." Tony leaned against the opposite wall and smiled as Ziva turned her head. "Hi honey. Having a good day at the office?"


	19. Chapter 19

Tony leaned against the opposite wall and smiled as Ziva turned her head. "Hi honey. Having a good day at the office?" _Go on honey. Just do whatever makes you feel better. I'm sure I'll feel better too. A head-butt would be good, but basically just do whatever takes your fancy._

"I've had better." She thrust her face forward, so that her nose was almost touching Ray's. "You were never interested in me, were you? It was all just an act. A means to an end."

"Did I hurt your pride?" Ray made the mistake of sneering.

"No. Don't flatten yourself."

"I think you mean 'flatter'."

Despite himself, Tony almost winced. "Big mistake there."

Ray had barely managed to get the words out before Ziva body-slammed him into the wall and all the breath left his body in a single gasp as her knee made full contact and his testicles seemed to explode like a supernova.

"I think you'll find she actually did mean flatten." DiNozzo watched with considerable satisfaction as Ray slid down the wall to sit in a crumpled and wheezing heap on the floor. "Yup, she did. Nice work, by the way. Economical, but effective. But then you really don't want to waste any more time on him, do you sweet cheeks? Especially when the goons from Homeland Security are on their way over. I reckon he should just about be capable of coherent speech by the time they arrive."

Ziva bent down and pulled back the sleeve of Ray's shirt and quickly discovered the tell tale bump where the chip was embedded under the skin. "That's all the proof they need." She spat neatly onto the floor beside him and was secretly pleased to see the way he automatically shrunk back. It was nice to see she could still a healthy fear in people.

"I'm CIA. I was acting on orders," Ray moaned, cupping his groin.

"You acted on orders you knew to be against the national interest, you mean. It'll be interesting to see how that pans out under the Patriot Act."

"We should have asked Deeks," Ziva observed. "Asked for his legal opinion."

"He probably would have charged us."

Ray looked at them in astonishment. "Deeks? What would he know? He's just some scruffy reject from LAPD. He's not even NCIS."

DiNozzo bent down and took hold of the agent's collar. "He's ten times the man you could ever hope to be. And don't you forget it." He only let go when Ray's face went an unpleasant puce colour. "And, by the way, your shirts are horrid. Those collars went out of style two years ago. You really should make more of an effort. And wash your damn hair next time you get under the shower. Just because you are a greasy slimeball doesn't mean you have to look like one."

Ziva gave a hard look at the rather pathetic figure. "You are without moral guidance or proper direction. And I actually feel sorry for you." She turned to walk away.

"You'll sorry for yourself when your father gets in touch," Ray threatened.

"I have no father," she said quietly and continued walking. Eli had disowned her the moment she'd told him of her plans to renounce her Israeli citizenship and become a naturalised American. He had taken the decision as a personal insult, it seemed. Although she schooled her face to impassivity, inside Ziva's guts were churning. She'd long suspected her father was motivated by anti-American sentiments, but could he actually be involved in subversively promoting activities, such as promoting Operation Frankenstein? And sadly, the only answer to that was in the affirmative.

* * *

><p>Marty groaned and ran his hands through his hair until it was standing on end as he continued to wade through the morass of paperwork that littered the large oak conference table in his office. "I officially give up. Hetty is going to have to send in one of those teams that forensically comb through records."<p>

"Thank you!" Kensi clasped her hands together and looked up at the ceiling in gratitude. "I was wondering how long it would take you to come to that conclusion. Only, seeing how stubborn you are, I was beginning to wonder if we'd make it out of here before it got dark."

"I'm not stubborn. I'm thorough."

"Yeah, right. You just keep telling yourself that." Kensi stood behind him and started to massage his shoulders. "And you're a mass of knots."

Marty let out another groan, but this one was entirely different in nature. "You want me to strip down to my skivvies and get up on the table so you can do a proper job?"

"I always want you in your skivvies. No, wait a minute – you're even better out of them." She dropped a kiss on the top of his head. "But I've got a better idea – how about we go home and get into the hot tub? That way, Hetty's team can get to work without disruptions?"

"Do you always have to be so practical?"

"Yes. Because there's a great bottle of wine chilling at home, not to mention there's a full moon tonight."

"I could show you another full moon, right now?" he suggested hopefully.

"Hold onto that thought." Kensi pulled out her cell. "Hetty? We're going to need a little help here. Any chance you could send Nell and a team of analysts over?"

"That's a bit cruel," Marty observed, pulling on his jacket. "Nell might have a date tonight. At least make sure it's going to be worth it for her."

Kensi pulled a face. "And Hetty – make sure you include that new guy. You know, the one with brown curly hair and green eyes." Nell always went suspiciously quiet whenever he walked past.

"Matchmaking, are you, Ms Blye?" Hetty had already noticed Nell's attraction to the new analyst.

"Not at all. Why would I do something like that?" _Just because I'm getting married and I just want everyone else to be as happy as I am._

"I wouldn't have the slightest idea." Hetty permitted herself the luxury of a small smile and ended the call. It looked like things were getting back on track and that they had managed to work through the trauma of losing the baby. Still, it would be useful to have Nate back. Hetty realised that she had missed his presence, the stability that he brought to the team.

"Come on – we need to get out of here." Marty was standing at the door with an expectant look on his face and Kensi thought of that hot tub and the bottle of wine with their names on it, just waiting back in Malibu. And who knew what might happen after that?

"And we need to start planning the wedding," Kensi reminded him.

"Yeah, we might have a bit of a problem there."

She stopped dead in her tracks. "What sort of a problem? Don't tell me you've got a wife stuffed up in the attic, like Mr Rochester in _Jane Eyre_?" _Come to think of it – I've never actually been into the attics. I wonder what you do have hidden away up there?_

"Not exactly. Well not at all, actually. It's more about the location. You know how we kind of agreed it would be cool to get married on a beach?"

Yes, Kensi remembered that conversation. And the fact that about ten minutes later Marty had gone haring into a burning building and narrowly managed to avoid getting himself killed. "Oh, really? That's a pity."

"You don't sound broken hearted."

"To be honest, I was never that keen. All that sand, getting everywhere and ruining my dress. And what if it's raining?"

"Kensi, we live in California. You know, where the sun shines pretty much every day of the year?"

"With our luck, we'd pick the one day when it poured." A small devil prodded her and Kensi was powerless to resist. "You know, there is somewhere I'd love to get married."

"It has to be a consecrated building," Marty said. "That's what Father John said."

"No problem there. None at all. And it's in a beautiful setting. In the middle of this park and surrounded by trees, and the wall are almost all glass, so it's the next best thing to being outdoors." Kensi gave a rapturous sigh. "I guarantee you'll love the church."

"It sounds almost perfect. So what's the catch?" _Because there has to be a catch._

"Well, for starters, it's in Virginia," Kensi admitted. "And it is quite small. We'd probably only be able to have about 70 guests."

"Virginia's cool." _With any luck, half the Brandel relatives won't come out. "_And we never wanted a huge wedding – did we?" _I still don't really see why there has to be all this fuss. But women seem to love it. I'll just do as I'm told and pretty much agree to anything._

"Great! All we have to do is pick a date then. You're going to love Semper Fidelis Chapel."

Marty had the distinct feeling he had just been had. "Semper Fidelis? As in the Marine Corps park near Quantico?" he asked weakly. This was like his worst nightmare come true, and even worse than the idea of getting married in Camp Pendleton.

It was all Kensi could do not to collapse there and then. "Your face!" she crowed delightedly. "I just wish I'd had a camera."

"You do want to get married? To me?" he asked. "Or were you planning on finding some guy with a square jaw, no neck and a bad haircut? And that way you can walk down the aisle to the Marine Corps hymn too."

"You really know how to say all the best things." Kensi tucked her arm into his. "But I guess I'll stick with you."

"Good. Because I'm not letting you go. Unless someone makes me a very, very good offer."


	20. Chapter 20

"How about we go home and talk about it some more?" Kensi suggested. "A wedding doesn't just happen, you know. It takes a lot of organising. And planning." _And I've all these dreams for so many years… the white dress, and the flowers and the music and…_

Marty had a good idea exactly where this was leading. "And money?"

"That too." Kensi pulled out of the parking lot, relishing the way the Jaguar handled. "Isn't it lucky that's one thing we don't have to worry about?"

"I'm not so sure my accountant would agree. Our accountant, I should say."

"I never realised when I agreed to marry you that an accountant came as part of the package."

"You want to back out?"

"No. I might have to give this car back. You I can live without, but the car's another matter. No way am I letting it go." She gave the gear lever a pat.

Marty looked at the way her hair was flying in the breeze, the way the wind had whipped colour into her cheeks and the way her eyes were sparkling. "Then I guess I'll have to get rid of the accountant. There's no room for anyone else in the marriage. Except Bobby, of course."

"Bobby I can live with. He kind of grows on you. Like mange."

"He doesn't have mange," Marty protested. "He's just kind of scruffy."

"He's exceptionally scruffy." Kensi had spent the best part of an hour grooming the little dog one day, only to find that ten minutes later he had reverted to form and looked as dishevelled as ever. "No-one would ever think you'd actually paid good money for him."

"He's got a pedigree. A very good pedigree. And he can't help having shaggy fur." Marty was aware the wind was probably doing peculiar things to his own hair. "Anyway, we look good together. We match. Could you imagine me with a Saluki? I don't do smooth and sleek – except when it comes to you."

"You know the nicest things to say." And Kensi wouldn't have it any other way. Except maybe if Bobby didn't fart quite so much. Still, she could always save the cork from that bottle of wine they were planning to have…

"So are we going to talk properly about this wedding?" There was no use in prolonging the agony any longer, Marty realised

"I guess we should." It wasn't far to Malibu now, although Kensi felt as if she could have kept driving this glorious car right up to the Canadian border. "We're agreed that we get Father John to perform the ceremony?"

"If that's okay with you? And your Mom, of course." And that was the one major fly in the ointment. Marty had this horrible feeling that when it came to the part of the service when the priest asked if anyone knew of any reason they shouldn't get married, Kensi's mom would be leaping out of her seat and shouting "I object!" _Maybe we could Gibbs to sit beside her and head-slap her everytime she looks like saying anything?_

"There's no 'of course' about it." Kensi had felt kind of guilty about the way Allison Blye clearly felt left out of her life, but there was still time to sort that out. Allison had her own life, after all and she had to accept that Kensi did too "She can be involved in other ways. Like coming dress shopping with me, choosing the invitations – things like that. But the service – that's about you and me. It's our decision."

"My dad's probably going to want to come," Marty said reluctantly.

"What on earth do mean 'probably'? Of course he is. You're his son. And he loves you."

"You reckon?" There were some things it was not so easy to forgive or to forget. Like the memory of a man pointing a gun at a terrified child and threatening to kill him. Things that still hurt desperately, even after twenty years. And then there was the other matter that he'd never stopped loving his Dad, and knowing he'd been alive and stayed away deliberately was hard to cope with. Another rejection would be even worse.

"I know. Jack loves you. He stayed away because he loves you – can't you see that? Because he didn't want to hurt you any more. He thought you'd made a new life for yourself and he didn't want to upset things. Marty, that poor man is racked with guilt. Don't go making it any worse for him."

"I could ask him to be my best man." He'd been thinking about this for ages now, wondering if it would be a good idea, if Jack would come over from Scotland and terrified that if he asked him, his father would say no. Marty didn't think that their fledgling relationship could survive that and he knew that his self-esteem certainly could not. "If you don't mind?"

"I think that would wonderful. And I know he'll be so happy that youre asking him – that you want him to be a part of all this – of your life." Kensi pulled into the gates of the house, which swung open automatically. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Could have been worse. You can do the rest of the organising, if you want to?" He flashed her a hopeful smile.

"Nice try. Don't think you're getting out of this as easily as that. Our wedding, remember? Plural. Not mine – ours."

"I wouldn't want to spoil it for you."

"Nice try."

"We could talk about it in the hot tub?"

"We could do a lot of things in the hot tub." Talking wasn't necessarily one of them. Kensi had other ideas about what she wanted to do in there and wedding planning did not figure highly on her list of priorities right now. "Bet I can beat you there!" She ran across the gravel and into the house, Marty following hard on her heels and already pulling off his tie and throwing off his jacket.

"That's cheating. Not a fair start at all." He grabbed Kensi around the waist and turned her around in his arms. "You're going to have to pay a forfeit." Marty reached around and unzipped her skirt, which dropped neatly to the ground. A discreet, but perfectly audible cough interrupted any further action.

"Excuse me. I didn't mean to interrupt." Hetty stood on the stairs, her arms full of a cascade of slightly dingy oyster coloured silk.


	21. Chapter 21

"Hetty. What a surprise," Marty said flatly, while Kensi stood there, wondering if she should make a grab for her skirt or just pretend it was perfectly normal to be wearing nothing but a blouse, a pair of panties and high heels. "We weren't expecting you – were we?"

"I suddenly remembered about your mother's wedding dress," Hetty said, and gestured to the material swathed in her arms. "I was almost sure it was still up in the attic here and I just wanted to make sure." It sounded particularly pathetic, she realised.

"Sure. I can see why that couldn't wait."

Kensi decided that she must look ridiculous and hastily pulled her skirt back up. "I didn't realise you still had your Mom's wedding dress, Marty."

"It wasn't something that came up in day to day conversation." _I was still just a kid when she died. Not many teenage boys are interested in their parents' wedding._ "I don't think I knew it was up there."

Hetty held out the dress. "I thought you might want to wear it, Kensi."

There wasn't a whole lot you could say to something like that, not when the last wearer's aunt and son were both standing there, looking at you, but Kensi gave it her best shot. "That's an interesting idea." She was sure the dress had been lovely – at the time. Which was forty years ago. It was just that Kensi wanted her own dress to be unique. And given the way Jack and Maryanne Brandel's marriage had played out, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to chance her luck quite that far.

"It was just an idea. A rather sentimental idea. I can see that now." Hetty cleared her throat. "I do have something else I wanted to speak to you about. Away from the office."

"Come on down. We may as well do this comfortably. And over a drink." Marty certainly felt like he could do with one. Or several. He took another look at the dress. "Mom sure was slim, wasn't she?" Vaguely, he could recall photographs that used to stand on the mantelpiece and on the piano, probably in silver frames, now he came to think about it, showing his parents on their wedding day. He'd have to look them out sometime, rekindle the past and maybe get some ideas about his own wedding.

"She was indeed. About Kensi's size, in fact. That's what made me think… But it was probably just a silly idea. I find I'm getting rather sentimental these days. But then, this will be the first wedding in our NCIS family."

And that was all it took to make Kensi feel about six inches high. It seemed that Hetty had a vested interest in this wedding too. It wasn't often that Hetty let her feelings be known, but this was certainly one of those times. So, it looked like her wedding dress was going to be oyster coloured silk. Well that wasn't so bad. She could live with that. It just remained to be seen if her Mom could.

"It's a great idea, Hetty. Like Marty said, let's sit down and talk about things over a glass of wine. We got nowhere with the record search over at the office It could take days, judging by the amount of paper work and computer files they have." Kensi lead the older woman out onto the terrace and sat down with a sigh. "I just realised why I never went into an office job."

"Keeping up to date with your reports has always been a weakness of yours. Not that I'm criticising, just observing."

Kensi sat up straight. "Okay, now I know there's something wrong. You come over with this excuse about wedding dresses, and now you basically tell me it's alright to file my reports in late. Hetty – I lost a baby. I didn't lose my mind at the same time. So stop treating me like I'm made out of glass. I'm fine. Really, I am." She was glad to hear footsteps behind her, because she really didn't want to talk about this any more – not now, and certainly not with Hetty.

"Look who I found lurking around the rhododendron bushes," Marty announced. "I've put another bottle of wine to chill, by the way. I've got a feeling we're going to need it."

Nate stepped forward with a sheepish smile on his face and folded his long length into a chair.

"Why do I get a bad feeling about this? Not that I'm not pleased to see you, Nate- because I am. But Hetty's making much too big a deal about all this. I'm fine. Marty's fine – we're both fine. Why won't anyone believe me?"

"Because I'm here about something else. Just hear me out, will you? I've travelled halfway around the world and right now my brain is telling me it's time for breakfast. Not that I'm going to refuse a drink, of course."

Marty opened the wine and poured it, and as Nate began talking, kensi watched the glass frost over with condensation, partially obscuring the clear golden liquid. She could hear everything that was being said, but it didn't seem to make sense.

"Jack was involved in Operation Frankenstein? My Jack?" she was so focused on Nate that she didn't even notice how Marty winced at her unfortunate choice of words.

"He was the original test subject," Nate confirmed. "It all started with Jack. He absorbed all the indoctrination and programming, and we all know what happened."

"Then that explains everything. It wasn't him – it was them." Kensi slammed her hand down on the table with such violence that her glass overturned and the wine splashed down onto her skirt. "I should have known it. I always knew there had to be reason."

"Kensi – this doesn't alter anything. Jack was chosen because of his personality – the inherent violence within him. You know what we found out – the long history of abuse, the mutilation of all those animals when he was a child. He was always a sadist. All that happened was that he was given free rein to indulge himself, with official sanction." He spoke in a quiet voice, but Nate put as much forceful reason as he could into his words."

"No." She shook her head. "It wasn't like that. You didn't know him – I did. And he changed."

"Maybe he would have changed anyway?" Marty suggested. "It's hard to make a man go against his personality, against what he knows to be right. And Jack didn't have any problem with hurting people gratuitously. You know that, Kensi. You ought to know that better than anyone. He beat you up enough times, after all."

Nate looked at her quizzically. "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anything you did, Kensi. You do know that, don't you?"

"But I should have known! Why couldn't I see what he was like? Why did I keep on believing all those things he said? And why did I stay with him and make excuses for him, even when he was hurting me?"

"Because you loved him, sweetheart. And you wanted to believe the best in him. And he didn't deserve your love. Because Jack Patterson was a sadistic bastard who used you and abused you." Marty stood up. "I think I'd better leave you to talk about this by yourselves."

Kensi watched as he walked back into the house. "Would he have been like that anyway – without the Frankenstein programming?"

"Possibly. Probably. Jack was a sick man, Kensi. He derived his pleasure out of hurting people. And it gave him a sense of power. Again, Operation Frankenstein just indulged his latent defects." The more Nate learned about Jack Patterson, the more he detested the man.

"And what does it say about me – that I let myself be taken in by him?" Kensi piled her hair on top of her head and sighed.

"That you're human. That you wanted to help him. That you stuck by him, hoping you could make a difference and that you could make your relationship work. And that you took all the blame on yourself, rather than putting it where it belonged. It takes two people to make a relationship work, but it only takes one person to break it. You did nothing wrong."

"Except stay with him. What's the term for that, Nate? Tacitly condoning his actions? Maybe if I'd done something, said something… Oh, I don't know." She let her hair fall forward, so that it partially obscured her face. "All these years – all that waste of time. All those tears. And he's still here, haunting me."

"Only if you let him, my dear." Hetty leaned forward and took hold of Kensi's hand. "You have a choice – you can condone his actions towards you and blame it all on unseen circumstances, or you can acknowledge that you made a mistake and that you have moved on. You are not responsible for Jack Patterson – and you never were. You were loyal, but you were misguided."

"I was a fool with lousy taste in men."

Nate sipped his drink appreciatively. "You've got good taste in wine though. And you seem to have learned your lesson this time around."

"Marty?" Kensi smiled. "Oh, Marty's nothing like Jack. Nothing like him at all. I've never doubted how much he loves me – not for one second. And he makes me feel so happy, like I'm complete. But with Jack I never ever felt I was quite good enough. Not even at the beginning. But he could be so charming and persuasive, when he wanted to be. And he was a Marine, just like Dad, and my Mom liked him… at first."

"You seem to have done alright this time around. Even if Marty's not a Marine. And even if your Mom doesn't like him." Nate took another long sip of wine. "This really is quite excellent. The perils of working in a country where alcohol is forbidden."

"Where exactly did you say you were?"

"I didn't. And that's called changing the subject."

"What was the subject exactly? My past relationship or my current one? Or my Mom? Did Hetty really get you to come all this way to give me marriage counselling?"

"I came because I was asked to help on a number of fronts. And because I miss you all. And because I heard Deeks had this really great wine cellar." Nate finished his wine and eyed the bottle speculatively. "But seeing you brought up the subject, how about we talk about your Mom? Did she breastfeed you? Did you have separation anxieties when you went to school?" His eyes twinkled as Kensi tried to process this. "Relax, Kensi. I was only joking. If you want my help, then you only have to ask. As a friend, nothing official. Otherwise, I'll stay the hell away from your personal business."

"I love you as a friend, Nate – but I hate when you get inside my head. Nothing personal, you know?"

"I know. So, asking purely as a friend, can go inside and get some more of this excellent wine?"

"Go ahead. Make yourself at home – pretty much everyone does anyway. It's open house here in Malibu." Kensi waited until Nate gone inside and had shut the French doors behind him. "Why do I feel we've both been set up here? Me and Marty both?"

"Your grammar is horrible. I don't know what they teach in schools these days."

"You're not going to answer, are you?"

Hetty smiled. "Suffice to say, I worry. About all my team. But perhaps I worry about some of you a little more than others."

"Callen took the death of his partner hard. He'll need a friend too."

"And Dr Getz will be there for him. But Mr Callen has other things in his life that will help to balance out this current distress."

"We will too. One day." Kensi turned her engagement ring around on her finger nervously. "Everything will be fine, Hetty. Jack was my past – and a bad part of my past. But I've moved on, I'm a different person now and maybe I'll even learn to stop making excuses for him and just acknowledge that I made a bad mistake there. Boy, did I ever have bad judgement where he was concerned."

"I'm glad you put that in the past tense. I was beginning to get worried for a while there." Kensi turned around to see Marty standing behind her, holding a bottle of champagne and four flutes. "So how about we drink to Nate's safe return?"

"I'll drink to that. And to the future – to our future."

Nate stood leaning against the sun-warmed wall of the house, his arms folded and a contented smile on his face. It had been worth it – all those long hours of travelling. Because sometimes, just being there, helping to coax out the realisations made all the difference, and allowed people travel forward on the path to their destiny without fear or recrimination. He looked at the couple on the terrace and how they were together and wished everyone could be as happy. It was on days like these, when he had really made a difference and to people he genuinely cared about, that Nate thought he had the best job in the world.


	22. Chapter 22

"Nate! It's been too long." Nico slipped through the French doors and enveloped him in a hug. "You've heard the news?"

"About you and Callen – and the baby? Sure I have. Hetty rang me as soon as she knew. Congratulations. It seems like the team's going to be expanding – your baby and Sam's baby. I think Hetty's feeling like an expectant grandmother.."

"It would have been even better if only Kensi's baby… if only Kensi was still expecting." Nico had discovered, much to her surprise, that she was deeply superstitious and couldn't bring herself to mention the words 'baby' and 'died' in the same sentence. The loss still haunted her and she couldn't stop feeling guilty that she was so happy and so blessed. "And we're getting a house – Callen and I. We thought we needed to give them some space." _It's not fair, us being here. And as I get bigger, it's going to get even worse for them – like rubbing their noses in it. And that's the last thing I want to do._

"It's a big house," Nate commented. Actually it was a huge house. "Seems like there's more than enough room for all of you. Is it because of the baby?"

"Partly." Nico knew exactly what he was trying to do and was not going to travel down that particular route. Some things were private and should stay private. "But mainly it's because we need to have our own lives. We've still got a lot to find out about each other and we need time together, alone – before the baby comes." She screwed up her face. "It wasn't exactly planned, you know. And it's not the best timing, because I've got this series of major concerts coming up in San Francisco next month." _And pretty soon after that I won't be able to get near enough to the keyboard to actually play._ _How come I'm getting so big, so quickly? I'm going to look like a whale soon._

"But you are happy?"

"Happy?" Nico looked at him incredulously. "Nate, I'm so happy I feel like I could burst. Mind you, that might have something to do with the fact this dress is far too tight."

Nate looked at the way it was straining across her breasts and smiled. "Nico, from where I'm standing, it looks great. And you look great too."

"Life is good," she admitted. "Very, very good. But it's awkward, being here. You know?"

"It sounds like it's the right time for you and Callen to be making your own lives together." Despite himself, Nate couldn't help being concerned about Kensi and Deeks, left alone in the big house, with the memory of the baby and all those empty spaces that weren't going to be filled. Only he couldn't take everyone else's problems on his shoulders, no matter how tempting it was. Somehow, they were going to have to work things out between themselves. If he could help, then Nate would be there – but only if he was asked. And, in the meantime, there was a wedding to plan – and that should help to focus everyone's attention nicely.

"Come on." He crooked his elbow invitingly. "Let's go and talk dresses and music and flowers. And even houses. You do know that Callen's not good at furniture?"

"I can be very persuasive," Nico informed him and they walked across the terrace together, arm in arm. When they reached the table, Marty stood up and pulled out a chair for her solicitously. "And I could get very used to this sort of treatment. You're going to have to have a word with Callen about how to show a lady some respect."

"You're going to have to make him buy some furniture first," Kensi said wryly.

"So Nate's been informing me." Nico looked at the champagne longingly and decided that the moment the baby was born she was cracking open a magnum and drinking every last drop herself, while Callen stood there with his tongue hanging out. Well, one of them would have to stay sober to look after the baby and after nine months of enforced abstinence it was not going to be her.

"I've never been able to work out if he's just mean or if he's got such bad taste he doesn't dare choose anything in case we all laugh at him."

"I'll be doing the choosing," Nico informed him. "And talking about choosing, what music have you decided on?"

"Music?" Marty looked confused. "You want me to go put some music on?"

"For the wedding, you idiot," his fiancée informed him lovingly. "We hadn't actually got around to talking about that," she confessed. _That's just one of the many things we've still not decided upon. Why does everything have to be so complicated? Maybe Marty was right and we should just have eloped and then had a party? Only my Mom would kill us – well, probably just Marty, to be honest, and so would Hetty. Oh God, this is a nightmare._

"Here Comes The Bride?" he suggested lamely. "Doesn't everyone have that?"

"It's not obligatory. And we're definitely not having it. Because mentally, every time I hear it I'm always singing '_here comes the bride, forty inches wide'_, so that's a complete non-starter."

Marty sank back in his chair and rightly decided that no further input was required from him on this particular subject.

"A bit old-fashioned too. Doesn't suit either of you." Nico leaned back in her chair and regarded them carefully. "How about something like '_One Hand, One Heart'_ when you go down the aisle, Kensi? Only just the music, no singing." She hummed a few bars, slowly and in an impressive contralto. "That might work."

Kensi was beside herself. "That would be incredible. So romantic."

"Glad you approve. I could even play for you," Nico offered nonchalantly. "If you wanted me too."

"Want you to? Play for us?" Kensi bounced out of her seat and hugged her. "That would be amazing. And I've got plans for our first dance too, only I want those to be a secret."

"I don't really do dancing," Marty said darkly. "Not that sort of dancing anyway."

"Sure you do, honey. Don't you remember those lessons we went to together, way back when we were kids?"

"No, for the very good reason that I've tried to blot them out of my mind. They're the reason I don't do dancing now. It's alright for Kensi – she's going to be wearing a long dress and nobody will see her feet, but what about me?"

Nate felt his colleague was missing the point. "Deeks – nobody is going to be looking at you. Don't you know that weddings are all about the bride? The groom has to turn up, sure – but that's about it. Everyone is going to be looking at Kensi – not you. You couod pretty much disappear after the ceremony and most people wouldn't even notice."

"You really know how to make a guy feel wanted, don't you, Nate?" Marty poured himself another drink and contemplated opening another bottle. They seemed to be going through alcohol at an alarming rate tonight.

"I could arrange for some refresher lessons, Mr Deeks – if you feel they would be beneficial." Hetty beamed happily, the champagne having gone straight to her head. "I used to be regarded as rather a nifty mover in my youth, you know."

"That's really kind of you. I'll be certain to keep that in mind." Marty was convinced that dancing lessons with Hetty would be even worse than the ones of his childhood and determined that he would do everything in his power to avoid this possibility. He looked longingly at the hot tub and thought that there was very little chance they would be using that tonight, because Hetty was almost certain to want to join them and that was certainly not going to happen. There wasn't enough alcohol in the world to make that tolerable, but he'd go and get another bottle of wine, just to be on the safe side.

* * *

><p>By the time Callen and Sam finally left Janet Brent and her children it was dark and they felt drained. They sat in the car in silence for a few moments, trying to put their thoughts in order. Each man imagined someone coming to their own doors with that sort of news and then tried to push the thoughts away, but it was to no avail. Thoughts like that could not be dismissed so easily.<p>

"He was a good man. Taught me a lot. It shouldn't have happened to him, Sam. Not to Charlie."

"No, it shouldn't."

"Makes you think, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. Always been at the back of my mind. I just keep telling myself that it's not going to happen – not to me."

"Only it could happen to any of this, at any time." Callen closed his eyes wearily. "You want to tell me why we do this?"

"Beats me. Because someone has to? And when we were young, free and single it actually seemed kind of cool?" Sam wondered if perhaps now that there was another baby on the way he should maybe think seriously about moving to a less dangerous mode of work? He knew that tonight when he closed his eyes he would see the faces of the Brent children and their looks of complete devastation. He was the man who had ruined their lives, the man who told them their Daddy was never coming home, because he was dead. And there was no way Sam wanted someone telling Crosby that kind of news.

"Not any more. Now it just seems stupid. And a game for young men." A little bit of Callen had died inside the Brent house.

"We're not so young anymore, are we G?" It was getting harder with each year just to keep going. Sam knew that his body was starting to protest and that the years of injuries were taking their toll. God only knew how Callen must feel some mornings, because his body had taken even more abuse over the years.

"Not young at all. Days like this, I can't ever remember being young." And now Callen had an additional worry, because he was going to be a father. Kids had never figured highly on his agenda – until now – when suddenly the baby seemed like the most important thing in the world. And watching his baby grow up was something he was determined not to miss. "I'm going to be kind of old for a first time father," he realised.

"You'll be fine. Going without sleep will be hell though."

"Sleep? Who cares about sleep as long as your baby is alright?"

Sam laughed out loud. "It's easy to see you're not a father yet. Just you wait. I'll remind you of this conversation in about a year and we'll see how chipper you feel then."

"I guess impending fatherhood makes you reassess your priorities," Callen admitted. He had a dull headache, right behind his eyes. "How about we go home now?" There was a time when work had been the most important thing in his life, but that was in the past.

"Sounds good to me."


	23. Chapter 23

_Everyone has their breaking point, and Callen is about to discover his..._

* * *

><p>If Callen had been hoping for a quiet and relaxing evening a deux with Nico, experience should have taught him that this was unlikely to happen. Living with Deeks and Kensi was more akin to staying at The Mission's considerably more elegant offshoot, with the added benefit of much more alcohol and luxurious bedrooms. But when he was craving nothing more that some downtime, the sight of several people sitting laughing on the terrace and clearly having enjoyed several drinks did not exactly fill his heart with joy. To be perfectly honest, it made it sink right down into his boots.<p>

_Just for once, _he thought miserably,_ just for once couldn't it have been me and Nico? Alone? Maybe in the bath – before she gets so big there's no way that's going to happen – and I could talk and she could listen and then we could go to bed and shut out the rest of the world, just for a few hours? Make believe there is just us and our baby and nothing else matters._

Only that wasn't going to happen. Not tonight. Not tonight, when Deeks and Kensi were holding court in that fucking huge house, with people lounging comfortably around while candles flickered and soft music came floating out from the house. It was like some damned party, and all the while Charlie B was lying on an autopsy table and his wife and children were trying to stop the rest of their world falling apart by holding on to one another. It wasn't meant to be like this. Fixing a smile onto his face, Callen walked out to join his team, while his world teetered precariously on foundations that suddenly had lost all their solidity.

"We have to move out next week. Sooner, if possible," he hissed into Nico's ear and eased into the seat next to her.

"We can move tomorrow if it means that much to you." Sure, there was the small matter of a distinct lack of furniture, but surely Mikey would lend them a bed at least? They wouldn't need a whole lot else.

"It does. Believe me, it does."

"You look like you could use a drink." Deeks held out the wine invitingly.

"You know I'm more of a beer man. And if you don't know that by now, you should." Callen ignored the sharp kick Nico aimed at his ankle. "It's the truth," he said defensively.

"I'll go get some beer then. Anything else, while I'm on my feet, Callen? Pretzels? Pizza?"

"Just the beer will be fine." Callen looked at Nico, who was pressing her leg urgently against his. "What?"

"Be nice. It wouldn't kill you."

"Being nice didn't help Charlie B, did it? No, being nice got him a one-way ticket, and all Deeks can think about is offering beer and snacks."

"You want I should give you an apology for not being the one who was murdered?" There was only so much anyone could reasonably be expected to take, and this was perilously close to the edge

Callen looked at Deeks, standing there looking right back at him, not willing to give an inch and he could feel the slow burn of temper that had building all day suddenly ignite "How about an apology for that fucking company of yours commissioning those microchips in the first place? Or would that be asking too much?"

"Listen man, I know you're upset. But don't say anything else. Okay?"

Hetty hastened to pour a little oil on decidedly troubled waters. "And we don't know that Brandel Technologies was involved."

"You don't know YET. But deep down, you know it and I know and even Deeks knows it, no matter how much he want to pretend that he doesn't. So why try to deny it?"

"I think you should go inside now, before you say any more." Nate's voice was calm, but it was authoritative. Someone who did not know Nate might even have said it was full of quiet authority and that here was a man who was accustomed to being obeyed.

"And I think you should butt out." Callen jutted out his jaw in belligerent fashion. "So – are you going to get me that beer, Deeks? Mr 'I own the company responsible for this whole blood-soaked mess'? Or are you just going to pay someone to sweep it all under the carpet, like they did with your father? Make like it never happened?"

Kensi's eyes flashed dangerously, but Hetty put a warning hand on her arm.

"This isn't about Marty," she said in an undertone.

"I know, but…"

"And it isn't about you either."

"Actually, it is." Kensi shook off the older woman's hand. "If it affects Marty, then it affects me. Simple as that. But I'll wait. I'll wait for a bit." She watched as Marty's jaw clenched, and he shifted his weight so that he was standing on the balls of his feet and his hands were curled up into fists.

"Callen, it's been a long day, and I'm tired. So do us all a favour, and go to bed, will you?" He was hanging on to the edges of his temper, and it wasn't easy. That crack about his father was pretty much the last straw. Telling himself that this was Callen – his team leader, his friend wasn't working. Knowing that the man had just been through the sheer and unadulterated hell of telling his ex-partner's wife that he husband had been brutally murdered helped him to understand a little of Callen's anger, but Marty wasn't about to stand there and be anybody's whipping boy. And it was just adding insult to injury that this was all taking place in his own house.

"Don't you just love his logic?" Callen grabbed the wine bottle and took a long swig. "You're tired, so I should go to bed? That's just brilliant, man. You kill me, Deeks, You really do." His laugh had no mirth behind it. "Tell me – do you ever think about all those other people you and that company of yours might be killing? Or does the money compensate for that? Go on, tell me. Because I'm genuinely interested."

"That's quite enough, Mr Callen." Hetty reached out her hand, but this time the touch was not gentle. This time, it went unerringly to a pressure point on his neck. It was like watching a pouncing snake, the gesture was deceptively fast and it had Callen fooled completely. Nico's jaw dropped as he collapsed unconscious in the chair. "Take him upstairs, Marty," she asked quietly. "And don't be too rough with him. It's not been the easiest of days for any of us. Him especially."

"Tell me about it." Hoisting Callen over his shoulder, Deeks strode back towards the house. It was only because Hetty had acted so quickly that he'd not thrown himself bodily on Callen and punched his lights out. She'd been cunning, calling him Marty. Hetty only did that when she really wanted to get to him – and it did. Every single time.

"I'll just go and see if he needs a hand," Nate volunteered. A man falling down that marble staircase could do himself a lot of damage, after all and Deeks didn't look as if he was in any mood to be messed with. Not that he could blame the man. Callen had really hit below the belt this time. He'd known the man for a long time and he had never known him to be deliberately cruel – until tonight. There was clearly something very wrong. It looked as if Hetty had called him back with not a minute to spare. Nate cast an anxious look at Nico, who was sitting there with tears rolling silently down her face, but decided this was definitely one of those times when he was more than happy to leave Hetty and Kensi t to deal with things. Besides, he reckoned he was needed elsewhere. If Callen came round and made one more smart remark, Deeks might very well be tempted to open a window and throw him down onto that stone-flagged terrace. And right now, Nate wasn't entirely sure if he would stop him or give him a hand.

"You alright there?" he called to Deeks, who was slowly going upstairs, with Callen's head bobbing at each step he took.

"I'm good." The words sounded as if they were coming out from between clenched teeth.

"You know his anger wasn't aimed at you?"

"It sure sounded as if it was. It sounded pretty personal from where I was standing." Thank God, he was almost there now. For a small guy, Callen was a lot heavier than he looked. Kicking open the bedroom door, he tried not to stagger too much and dumped his burden unceremoniously on the bed. On his damn bed. In his damn house. Well, not for too much longer.

Callen moaned softly and forced his eyes open. "What happened?"

"Good question. You have a think about it, and when you've got an answer, just let me know. And then get the hell out of my house. I might have to work with you, but I don't have to live with you." The door slammed and Callen winced at the noise.

It all came flooding back, along with an excruciating headache and an incredible pain in his neck. Which seemed strangely fitting, given what he could remember saying. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

Nate nodded and sat down on the side of the bed. "You did a pretty good job of laying your guilt on him, Callen. Want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Tough luck." Nate folded his arms and regarded Callen curiously. "Because I do. Before you tear this team apart and yourself in the process. As suicide missions go, that one was a doozy. You want to tell me why I shouldn't let Deeks back in here?"

"Because I'm an idiot? With a head that feels like it's going to explode? And because putting me out of my misery might be exactly what I want right now?" Callen dragged himself up the bed until he was sitting propped up against the pillows and looked at Nate miserably. "Because everything's slipping through my fingers like sand and there's nothing I can do about it?"


	24. Chapter 24

"You're completely right," Nate said.

That dead-pan response was not what Callen had been expecting. Nate was supposed to cajole him, to comfort him and offer advice, to tell him that he was over-reacting and everything was going to be alright. Heck, Nate was supposed to counsel him, help him through this – not just agree that the situation was hopeless, beyond redemption and there was nothing that could be done. "You did hear what I said?"

"I heard." Nate didn't even look particularly interested.

"And?"

"And what?"

"And what do I do about it?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Nate – this is as close I get to spilling my guts out to you."

"As opposed to spilling someone else's guts out in front of the team?"

"That's not fair."

Nate sat up straight. "I've got news for you, Callen – life isn't fair. Not fair at all. Sometimes it really sucks. And if you want to go on wallowing in your self-pity and then laying the blame on other people, then you go right ahead. I'm not going to stop you. Why should I bother? You've already made up your mind. You said that - not me. When you've thought things through and you actually want to talk about it properly, then I'll be ready to listen. But until then, I don't see why I should waste my time."

"That's brutal." Callen subsided back onto the pillows and looked hurt. "I've had a hell of a day."

"Like I said – life's hard. It hurts. And right now, your logic seems to be that because you're hurting, then you can lash out at other people – people who care about you."

"I was kind of rough on Deeks.," he admitted. "And I'll apologise."

"What if he doesn't want to listen? Why should he?"

"Deeks knows I didn't mean it."

Nate shook his head in disbelief. "No, he doesn't." He looked at Callen curiously. "Did you ever think that he might know how you feel? He knows what it's like to have a partner senselessly murdered after all."

Callen had forgotten about Jess, the LAPD cop killed in a car explosion. "How about just I hit myself and save Deeks the bother?"

"Why deny him the pleasure? How about you remember this is the man who is letting you and your pregnant girlfriend stay in his house right after he's just lost his baby?" Nate stood up. "Let me know when you've come to a decision about whether just to roll over and die or actually do something constructive."

"You're supposed to help me figure things out."

"And you're supposed to be an adult. And team leader. And I don't have all the answers, Callen. I never did. I say things like I see them. That's all. And right now, I don't like what I'm seeing." Nate shrugged his shoulders and went out of the room, leaving Callen alone with his thoughts and an outsize in guilty consciences.

* * *

><p>"So, what do I do?" Hetty looked at Nate in consternation. After an uncomfortable ten minutes of semi-silence, Kensi and Nico had gone in search of their respective partners. Shortly afterwards, Nate had returned to join her on the terrace.<p>

"You could start by pouring me a drink. And you could help yourself to one at the same time, because I don't like drinking alone."

Stifling an acerbic comment, Hetty did as she was bid. "About my team,Nate. What am I going to do?"

"You could read them the riot act, you could leave them to sort out their differences, or you could shuffle the partnerships, just for the hell of it. Because you can. You're the boss, Hetty and it's your call. You can do anything you want."

"I could do all three," she mused.

"You could indeed." Nate sipped his drink appreciatively. "Nice. Very nice indeed." He looked at the label and his eyebrows almost disappeared into his hair. "And there's still another couple of glasses worth left in the bottle. It's a lovely evening and we've finally got some peace to enjoy it properly. It's a pity to spoil it by thinking about work." He looked up at the stars shining bright in the dark of the sky and sighed.

"I find I seldom have time for anything except work," Hetty admitted. He was right, it was a beautiful evening and it had been far too long since she had taken time to enjoy the simple pleasures of life, such as enjoying the peaceful sensation that seemed to descend with the dusk.

"Make time." An idea flashed into Nate's head and an evil grin spread across his face. "How much leave do you have accumulated, Hetty?"

"Too much. Why?"

"There's a wedding coming up, isn't there? A family wedding? I'm sure you're going to be terribly busy, helping out in all sorts of little ways. Not to mention the fact you've got a whole house to clear out. You're going to be really busy. Maybe you should use some of that leave sooner rather than later?"

"How do you know that I've sold my house to Callen?"

"I didn't - not for certain. Not until you admitted it." Nate allowed himself to indulge in a small smirk. "Take the time off. Get away from all of this and let them sort it out like big boys. They've all been under a lot of stress and something had to give sooner or later."

"I never expected it would be Callen who broke." Hetty shook her head sorrowfully. "But how can they sort things out if Callen is acting up as Director of OSP?"

"Who said Callen has to act up? There are other people you can call on, aren't there?" Nate took another sip of wine and grinned at her. "Maybe that might give a new impetus to the whole situation?"

"I always knew I was right in assigning you to field duties, Nate. I knew you could be devious, but you've surpassed all my expectations."

"I learned everything I know from you, Hetty. Apart from one thing."

"And that is?"

"How to savour really, really good wine. That one I'm crediting to Deeks."

* * *

><p>"Marty?"<p>

"I'm through here. In the bathroom."

Sure enough, there were loud splashing noises, but even so Kensi wasn't quite prepared for the sight of Marty, crouched shirtless over the bath, in which reposed a very sorry and soggy bundle of fur. "This is how you decompress?" Bobby looked at her in the manner of one who has seen possible salvation and wagged his tail tentatively.

"Not by choice. Believe me. But when you're faced with a dog that has rolled in something unmentionable, there's not really anything else for it."

"If you leave NCIS you could always set up as a shirtless canine beautician. Nothing wrong with a bit of gratuitous semi-nudity, after all. It would be one hell of a unique selling point and I'm sure you'd get tons of bookings. Hell, I'd book you."

"I could think of worse things to do." He surveyed the dog carefully, picked him up and sniffed him cautiously. "Does he smell okay to you?"

"He smells like wet dog, which is not exactly good," Kensi admitted. "It's never been top of my favourite scents list."

"Believe me, it's one hell of an improvement on how he was smelling before." Marty grabbed a towel, bundled the dog in it and heaved him out of the bath.

"You want a hand there?" Kensi watched as the dog wriggled free in a matter of seconds and shook himself vigorously, soaking everything within range.

"Now you see why I took my shirt off. Did you know that blouse goes see through when it's wet, by the way?" He pulled the towel away from Bobby, who was now chewing it with great gusto. "Maybe you should join me in the dog grooming business? You'd appeal to a whole different sector of the market and between us we could really clean up. No pun intended."

"Or you could just get over it?" she suggested hopefully.

"Yeah. I could. But I'm not going to. Where's your hairdryer?"

"You're not using my hairdryer on the dog?"

Marty looked at her incredulously. "Why not? He likes it. And he much prefers your brush to his own. Look." He pointed to a well-chewed object that Kensi just managed to recognise as once having been a rather expensive bristle brush.

"Great. He can keep it. And you can dock his allowance until he buys me a new one. And you're still not using my hairdryer on him.

"Callen's back payments of rent will pay for enough hairbrushes to keep you going for the rest of your life."

"Don't be petty."

"I'm not being petty: I'm being pragmatic. Why should he doss down here for weeks and not pay a penny?"

"Because he's your friend? And he's Nico's boyfriend?"

"I didn't say I was going to charge her."

"We've got to work with him, remember?"

"Not necessarily. That dog grooming's looking better by the second."

Kensi opened the door and let the grateful dog escape. She couldn't help noticing that he jumped straight onto the bed and rolled about gleefully, transferring the remaining moisture from his coat onto the bedding, but as it was on Marty's side of the bed, she wasn't unduly bothered. "Stop being petty. And stop pouting."

"Want to make me?" He looked pointedly at her wet shirt.


	25. Chapter 25

Nico and Callen had talked long into the night and after they had finally become tired of going over the same old facts without reaching a conclusion, they'd fallen into bed and then lain there, carefully not touching one another. Sleep was elusive that night, what with recriminations and altercations running around in their heads. It didn't help to hear Kensi and Marty creeping downstairs at one point and hearing their whispers and then to have to lie there and listen to them coming back about an hour later trying not to wake the whole house with their laughter. Consequently, when morning dawned, neither could be said to be at their all-time peak the next morning. They got dressed in silence.

Walking downstairs, Callen realised he was going to miss this place. It had begun to feel like home, like somewhere he actually belonged and he didn't want to leave. Would the new house feel as welcoming? At the back of his mind, he realised that he didn't want to leave things like this with Deeks either, but he pushed that thought away as he realised Nico was still trying to persuade him to go furniture shopping with her.

"You could take a few hours off. That's all I'm asking. It's going to be your house, just as much as it's mine." Nico had discovered that the baby reacted really violently to caffeine and this only served to make her mood sourer. She stalked across the hall

"I'll like whatever you choose." Of all the things he felt like doing today, shopping was right at the bottom of his list. Besides which, Callen knew he'd be terrible at it.

"That's not the point and you know it. This is important."

"It's only furniture."

"It is not _only_ furniture. This is about us. You and me. And the baby." Nico suddenly realised she was shouting.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Deeks rolled his eyes and Kensi was tempted to smack him with her cereal spoon.

"What? I didn't say anything," he hissed.

"You're behaving like a child. This isn't your argument."

"It's my house, though."

"Grow up, Marty. And leave them alone. They've got enough problems without you adding to them."

"I'd like to be left alone too."

"You're being petty. And they're listening." Kensi flashed a charming smile. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

Nico sat down beside her. "I didn't, because I had heartburn. And he didn't because he had a guilty conscience."

Callen decided he wasn't about to dignify this slander with a response. And besides, Deeks looked as if he would fight with his own shadow today.

"Can you manage some breakfast?" Kensi asked solicitously. "You'll feel better with something in your stomach." She'd often thought how much easier it would be if women lived together and only saw their menfolk by arrangement. Of course, it wouldn't be nearly so much fun, but it might just be a price worth paying, especially if this morning was anything to go by.

"You ready?" Marty jingled his car keys ostentatiously. "We don't want to be late, after all."

Callen nearly choked on his coffee at the sheer impudence of that. Coming from Deeks, of all people. Deeks, who was renowned for rolling up to work with barely a minute to spare.

"I'm ready." The atmosphere certainly wasn't conducive to a peaceful breakfast after all, and if she stayed here much longer, Kensi had the distinct impression the milk would start to curdle. "We'll catch you later," she called over her shoulder.

Marty stuck his head round the door. "And leave your house keys with Caroline before you go." Kensi grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him bodily out into the hall.

"That was just plain mean."

"He's got his own house. And I just want to make sure my house is secure."

"It was still mean."

"It means that tonight, when we get back – it'll just be us." The Washington team had been recalled back east. "And we never did get to use the hot tub last night."

"Okay. You've got a point. A very good point." Kensi did feel a bit bad, but still… sometimes you had to put yourself first. "But you're still being mean."

"So bite me."

"I will. Just when you're not expecting it."

"Promises, promises." But at least his black mood was starting to shift a little. Maybe tonight he'd call his dad – catch up a bit and try to build a bridge across all those missing years? Before it was too late. You just never knew when life was going to catch up with you, and he'd already missed out on so much.

* * *

><p>"Turning over a new leaf, are we?" Hetty looked at the clock. "You've beaten Mr Callen."<p>

"You said it." Deeks flung himself into his chair and stuck his feet up on the desk. "Any word from the team going through the Brandel files?"

"Yes and no."

Sam gave her a pitying look. "It can't be both."

"Oh yes it can. I was merely pre-empting the next question. To summarise – 'yes' I heard from the team and 'no', there is nothing linking the Brandel company to the technology."

"Quite the reverse." Nell appeared with her datapad. "They found documentation showing Brandel Technologies had been approached unofficially, but that Bernard Brandel wanted nothing to do with the microchip programming. He turned the offer down flat."

"Way to go, Uncle Bernie." It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off his chest and he could breathe freely again. Out of the corner of his eye, Marty could see Callen coming in. "So that's definite then – Brandel Technologies refused to co-operate with Operation Frankenstein?"

"You just heard Nell." Hetty was quite aware of what was going on. Sometimes she felt like a parent pulled between two warring children. That period of leave was looking better by the second. Of course, the best thing would have been to spank both their bottoms and send them to bed without any supper, but sadly that wasn't an option. However, she had the next best thing. "I've been thinking that this might be a good time to make a few changes. We don't want anybody getting stale after all."

"What sort of changes?" Marty asked suspiciously. He really didn't fancy any more courses. It had taken him a week to recover after the last one.

"Change is good. Keeps you on your toes. Makes you flexible. Makes you a better agent." Callen stressed the word 'agent' ever so slightly and was absurdly glad to see that the hit registered on Deeks' face.

"I've never had any complaints. But I agree. Sometimes you really need to move on, don't you?" Two could play at being petty. And Marty could hold a grudge as well as the next man. Maybe even better.

Sam was getting the definite impression there was something going on. Something he wanted to stay well out of. And judging by the look on Kensi's face, she felt exactly the same way.

"I'm glad you both agree about something, gentlemen. Because I've had enough of this. I'm leaving. And you can put that in your pipes and smoke it!"


	26. Chapter 26

"You can't just go," Callen protested.

"Really? Since when?" Hetty regarded him implacably. "I've got news for you, Mr Callen, I not only _can_ go, I most certainly _am_ going. And what's more, I'm going right now. This morning. Is that clear enough for you?"

"Where?" Marty asked, with a stunned expression on his face as he realised that he'd miss her more than he'd ever have thought possible. Hetty wasn't just his aunt, she was his only link with his mother's family, and suddenly that seemed incredibly important. Why hadn't he ever realised this before – just how much she meant to him? Why hadn't he said something – anything? "Where are you going?"

"That would be telling. Are you planning on telling everyone where you and Ms Blye are going on honeymoon?"

"No point, they all know. Callen's paying for us to go to SeaWorld at San Diego, on account of the fact he dropped me on my head." Marty realised that yet again he really should engage his brain before opening his mouth. The joke had become such an ingrained part of the team mythology that he trotted it out without thinking twice. Only now the joke belonged to a different time, it came from a time before too much had been said – all those things that might be able to be forgiven, at some point in the future, but which could never be entirely forgotten.

"Well, I prefer my holiday destinations to remain private. That way I have some chance of actually being able to have a holiday without being bogged down by work." Not that Hetty actually had any plans for relaxation, or even for leaving LA. On the contrary, she had a team of removal men already clearing the house Callen and Nico had bought and she was going straight over there to supervise operations the moment she left the Mission. After that, things were somewhat of a moveable feast, in that she had no actual plans to do anything, other than to stay out the way so that the two most stubborn, boneheaded men she'd ever had the pleasure of working with actually managed to reach some sort of working agreement. It was either that or she'd have to let them slug it out between them.

"Wait a minute – you're going on holiday? On leave? You're not actually leaving?" For a moment there, Sam had been really worried.

"I'm going on holiday. Because I deserve a holiday. A proper holiday. My last one was rather less than relaxing, if you remember," Hetty pointed out. That had involved haring around Europe, desperately trying to find out who was threatening to expose old secrets. Secrets that involved the two men who were currently at each other's throats. "Mr Hannah – take care of things in my absence, will you? I've arranged for your IT account to be updated with all the necessary file permissions."

Callen stood up. "Sam? But I'm team leader, Hetty."

"Exactly. And this way you can continue to stay as team leader, while Sam assumes my responsibilities. That seems fair and equitable, doesn't it?"

"Seems perfectly fair to me," Sam agreed, trying hard to conceal his pleasure and almost succeeding. "Unless you've got a problem with that, G?"

"No problem at all. Why would I have a problem?" _Except for the fact that I feel like I've been smacked across the wrists for being a naughty boy._

"Excellent. I do have one final thing to implement before I go on my merry way." Hetty almost burst out laughing as she saw the looks on their faces. _Oh the sheer and unadulterated joy of keeping young people on their toes and showing them there is life in the old girl yet._ "I thought that this might be a good time to add a little variety into your lives – just to stop you getting stale. And I believe it will enable you all to gain a fresh perspective on things and a deeper appreciation of the human psyche."

"Please don't tell us we've got to go on another of those awful 'Raising Awareness' courses or that 'sensitivity training' HR is always banging on about?" Kensi pleaded. "I just about gave up the will to live after the last one."

Sam shared her pain. "I felt like shooting myself after the first half hour. I don't do feelings, Hetty. You know that."

"I was talking about something much more practical. So, with immediate effect, you will be paired with Ms Blye, Mr Hannah. And that means Mr Callen and Mr Deeks can have the pleasure of working together." Having chucked her bombshell into the arena, Hetty considered it was the time to withdraw to a place of safety. "I do hope you'll all find the experience illuminating." She positively skipped away.

"That's not quite the word I'd choose," Marty muttered under his breath, totally impervious to the fact that Kensi and Sam were both shooting looks of the utmost gratitude towards Hetty's rapidly disappearing back.

Callen subsided into his chair with a look of shock. Hetty could scarcely have done anything more guaranteed to take his breath away unless she'd kicked him directly in the balls. Which she might as well have done, he realised, rather than subject him to this ritual humiliation.

"Okay, boss – you want to tell us what the plans are for today?" Kensi could see Hetty's decisions were not universally popular, but why shouldn't Sam be given a shot at taking the lead? He was a great agent, every bit as good as Callen. Under different circumstances, he would have been a team leader too, along with the extra salary that brought. And she knew that money was getting tighter by the moment in the Hannah household. Right now, Sam needed support and she was going to give it to him. They still had a job to do after all.

"I'll see you upstairs in Ops in five minutes. I want to have Nell and Eric brief me on any overnight developments." Sam turned his head as a cell phone burst into life with the distinctive opening bars of _Sweet Caroline_.

"Sorry. It's Caroline – and she only ever calls me if it's really important. I'd better take this." Marty couldn't believe his luck at the opportune timing and made a hasty getaway so he could take the call in private.

"That is so cheesy." Callen shook his head in wonder. "Another new low for Deeks."

"Don't start," Kensi warned him. "I'm trying very hard not to take sides here, even if I do think your head's stuck somewhere up your backside right now. But you leave Caroline out of this. She's never done anything except be nice to you and she loves that song, so just stop right there." Caroline had confessed that Joe had requested that song on the radio for her, and had then gone down on one knee to propose. Ever since then, it had been "their" song, and now Kensi loved it almost as much as Marty did.

Callen decided that there was nothing for it but to have another cup of coffee. Besides which there was no way he ever wanted to mess with Caroline. She'd have him for breakfast, served up on a bone china plate, neatly placed on a lace doily. Caroline epitomised the meaning of the word 'indomitable' and it would be a foolish man who tangled with her.

* * *

><p><em>Details of why Callen dropped Marty on his head and then offered to pay for thier honeymoon can be found in my story <strong>The Chain<strong>, along with details fo Hetty's travels in Europe_.


	27. Chapter 27

"Caroline? Is everything alright?" She knew that calling during working hours was strictly for emergencies only.

"Not exactly. Do you know anything about a bath? A very large bath?"

For a moment, Marty thought Caroline was joking, and then he remembered luxuriating in the enormous roll-top bath back in Edinburgh and how it had seemed like a really good idea to order one and arrange for it to be delivered and installed. "Kind of," he admitted.

"Well, the good news is that it's arrived. The bad news is that the men ripped out the old bath and then decided they need to replace the plumbing."

"We'll manage. We'll just use another bathroom for a few days." He couldn't work out why Caroline was making such a big deal out of this: she normally coped with such things in her stride.

"That won't be possible. They've turned the water off completely. Joe and I are fine in the cottage, but you can't possibly stay in the house without any water."

"So we'll stay in a hotel for a few days. No big deal." Out of the corner of his eye, Marty could see Kensi pointing to her watch pointedly.

"But that's not the reason I'm ringing. Can you hear that?"

Now that she mentioned it, there was a strange noise in the background, one that he'd put down to disturbance or bad reception. "Kind of. What is it?"

"Not what – who. It's Nico. And she's crying. She's been crying ever since Callen left and she hasn't stopped. And I'm not exaggerating, Marty. Nico's terribly upset, and I'm getting worried. It can't be good for her or the baby."

"Me too. Was it something he said?" This didn't sound like Nico at all. She might rant and rave, even throw things around on occasion, or play the piano at extreme volume, but sitting sobbing was not her style. And surely this couldn't be good for the baby?

Caroline choked back an oath. "Don't try to push all the blame off on Callen. You're not entirely innocent, my boy."

The barb hit home. He'd never bothered to think about how his smart remarks might affect Nico. There he went, shooting his big mouth off and getting in a few cheap shots, and look what had happened. All of a sudden, Marty felt incredibly guilty. "Okay. I'll sort it. Tell her we'll both come by as soon as we can. And tell her everything's fine." This day was just getting better by the second. First of all he was paired off with Callen, and now this.

"You're going to apologise?" The swift about-turn almost took Caroline's breath away.

"You needn't sound so surprised. It has been known." Not that Marty actually considered he had anything to apologise for. But clearly things had blown up and Nico was upset

"Not very often. You were a terribly stubborn child and you've only got worse as you got older. So make sure you apologise properly, do you hear? No half measures."

"Trust me."

"Promise, Marty. Promise you'll apologise and really mean it."

"I promise." Talk about being boxed into a corner with no means of escape. "And tell Nico we'll be there as soon as we can." Marty ended the call, relieved that Caroline hadn't thought to enquire exactly what he was going to apologise for – or to whom. Because she was right to call him stubborn. Marty was perfectly happy to apologise for upsetting Nico, but he wasn't prepared to go any further than that. He didn't have a problem apologising if that would stop Nico crying, but he was damned if he'd grovel to Callen. After all, he was more sinned against than sinning. He sidled into Ops as unobtrusively as possible, hoping to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. Of course, everyone turned round the moment he came in.

"Deeks." His new partner seemed rather ill at ease, Marty realised.

"Callen." He gave a brief nod. "Sorry I'm late." He waited for the inevitable crack about his tardiness and was mildly surprised when it wasn't forthcoming.

"We've been discussing the microchip," Sam said.

"The one that wasn't designed by Brandel Brothers' Technologies," Kensi amplified.

They all looked as if they expected him to say something, so Marty just stood there, with an interested expression on his face. He'd obviously walked into some well-rehearsed scenario and decided to see how things would play out.

"The file was wrong. I was wrong." Callen stepped forward. "I believed what I read in the file and I said a whole lot of things." He gave a beseeching look.

"Yes, you did." Marty wasn't going to give an inch. Just because he'd promised Caroline that he would apologise didn't mean that he couldn't let Callen go first. He'd started it, after all. So why should he make it any easier for the guy? He ignored the prickings of his conscience and just continued returning Callen's gaze.

"I said a whole lot of things that were wrong and that I didn't mean. And I'm sorry." Callen stood his ground and spoke firmly. "I was wrong and I apologise."

"Fair enough." Maybe if Marty had been a little more forthcoming, then Callen might have offered his hand, or clapped him on the shoulder. But this silent, contained man was like a stranger and it left him oddly at ease.

"Marty – don't be like this." Kensi recognised the look on his face, and her heart sank, knowing only too well what it meant. "The misinformation was planted there – deliberately. Can't you see what that means?"

"That someone would put all the blame on me?" he suggested, after a moment's thought. "Sneaky. Devious even. I wasn't aware that I had so much credibility that anyone would go to all that trouble. Still, it worked."

Callen could see how much Marty was hurting, and knew that he was responsible. There was clearly a whole lot of bridge building to be done. "Someone wanted to tear this team apart, Deeks. And they used you and me." He took a deep breath. "And I was hurting and I wasn't thinking straight. I lashed out at you and I really am sorry." He knew that he had to shoulder this responsibility, but it was hard and Deeks wasn't doing anything to make it any easier.

"Like I said: fair enough." Marty wondered if Callen had ever really trusted him in the first place, that was the root of the matter: trust – or the lack thereof. "Someone tried to exploit our weaknesses," he said slowly. Things started to assume a new perspective. Trust was a two-way street after all. Maybe he should have given Callen a little more credit. "Someone's being playing us, haven't they?"

"Someone with access to the files." Sam looked at Eric and Nell. "You want to do some digging? Find out who had access – and I mean everyone. And then give Nate a call. We want him to start work on EJ, Cruz and Rishelle as soon as possible. There has to be some sort of clue somewhere."

Nell brought a series of images up onto the screen. "There's only a limited number of companies with the facilities to manufacture those chips. We're cross-referencing and data-mining to look for any possible connection to those with known connections to Frankenstein."

"Callen and I might have to take a detour. Something's come up." Marty just hoped that Sam wasn't going to ask any awkward questions.

"Go on. And don't argue about who's driving. Play nicely and take it in turns." Sam waited until they left the room before turning to Kensi. "Well?"

"Well, it wasn't great, but it went better than I thought. Given how stubborn they both are."

"It was a close run thing. I thought Deeks was going to walk at one point."

"I thought Callen was going to hit him."

They sighed in unison.

"If Hetty was here, she'd call them contrary buggers."

"And Hetty's always right. Never mind, as long as they don't kill each other, I reckon we'll be fine."

Sam looked at her in amazement. "You want to put money on that?"

"Not particularly."

"I didn't think so."

"But we did find out in time. Just in time." Kensi leant against him for a second. "Why would anyone want to destroy our team, Sam?"

"Because we're too good? Because we're too close to the truth? Either way, we'd better all keep watching each other's backs."


	28. Chapter 28

"Nice car." Callen sat beside Deeks in the Jaguar XK. It was more than nice – it was perfect. Sleek and powerful, with a throaty roar, Callen had been trying to persuade Hetty that this car would be perfect for him. Not that there was anything wrong with the Aston Martin, but the Jag was kind of cool. Actually, it was way cool. He'd have to plan his strategy very carefully, because after just a few minutes Callen was acutely aware he had car envy.

"We like it." Deeks concentrated on driving and the usual madness of LA traffic. Anything was preferable to thinking about how and the man sitting next to him had become virtual strangers. And the fact that it was all down to a few stupid words, said in haste and deliberately engineered to try to pull the team apart was even worse. Whoever had pulled this stunt was seriously clever. And it had almost worked. If Deeks didn't at least try to meet Callen half-way, then it still might work. "I wanted to give Kensi something nice," he said lamely.

"You've not had the easiest of times." _How's that for the understatement of the century?_

"No. We haven't." _Tell me about it._

"I feel kind of bad." Callen stared at the car ahead of them. At least sitting in the car meant they could talk without actually having to look at one another. "About a whole load of things."_ Especially that crack about your Dad. That was below the belt. And I'm so scared about becoming a father. It's not like I've got any real experience. I never knew my own father – I don't even know if he was still alive when I was born. Hell, I don't even know his name._

"Yeah, well. Things happen. Maybe we should just move on?" _Please don't say anything more. Don't apologise again. And don't say anything about my Dad. After he… left it was like my whole life changed, and not for the better. Everyone knew what had happened and there was no getting away from it. It was like everyone was talking about us and what had happened. Eventually, I changed my name to Deeks – but I never stopped loving him – and hating him for what he did to us. _

"We would have been moving out anyway – me and Nico. It was time." _But it's funny – I'm going miss you. Not that I'd ever admit it, of course. But you're like this goofy kid brother. And maybe I lashed out because I knew I could hurt you? If that makes sense, which it probably doesn't. But I really am sorry._

"Been nice having you," Deeks admitted. "Kind of fun." _The house is going to feel strange with you gone. It's been like having a big brother all over again. But I'd rather pull my toenails out with my teeth before I'd tell you that. Or how much I'm going to miss you both._

"It might not be fun for much longer." _How do I say this?_

"The baby?" _Please don't go there, Callen. _

"The baby," Callen agreed. "It's got to be hard for you and Kensi." _This is so awkward._

Deeks shrugged. "Loads of people have babies every day." _Just not us._

"I just feel like… well, you know_?" I wish this hadn't happened. It's got to be the worst thing ever. And Nico and I feel we can't talk about our baby too much, because of everything. Because it would be like we were rubbing salt into your wounds. And I really wish things were different._

"Yeah, I know. But we are happy for you. Really." _It's just we wish it was us. And I'm not jealous. Not exactly._

"Thanks." Callen stared blankly out of the window. "You think you might, uh… try again one day?" _How come women make this seem so easy? This whole 'talking about feelings' thing?_

"We had all these tests." Deeks' fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "To see if there was any reason why the baby died. Genetic incompatibility – that sort of thing." _You wouldn't believe how many things can go wrong, Callen. And I hope you never find out, I really do._

"Oh." Callen digested the news. "I didn't know." _I wish they would have said something. They're keeping all this pain so tightly bottled up._

"We didn't say anything. It's not the easiest sort of thing drop into conversation." _And Kensi still feels terrible, like it's her fault or something. She sees Nico and Denise pregnant and she feels like she's failed, or something. You go grocery shopping and you see all these families and it just feels like life is so fucking unfair._

"So – the tests – what did they say?"

"We're still waiting for the results. It's a bit stressful."

"Yeah, I can see that. Good luck, by the way."

"Thanks." _Thank you for not saying 'I'm sure everything will be alright'. That was decent of you. Because we don't know that. Obviously. Otherwise we wouldn't be going through all these tests._

"Let me know, will you? Only if you want to, of course." _I don't want you to think I'm prying, because I'm not. But I do care, I really do._

"Will do. And thanks."

Callen looked at the road and suddenly realised he had no idea why they were in the car. "You want to tell me where we're going by the way?"

"Ah. Yes." _Shit. We were getting on really well there._ "That call from Caroline? She kind of wants us to go back to the house. There's a bit of a problem."

"How big a problem?" Callen wasn't buying a pig in a poke.

"A Nico-sized problem," Deeks admitted reluctantly. "She's a bit upset."

"Is she playing Chopin at full volume?" He knew the danger signs pretty well by now and that was the sign to evacuate the area until the storm had died down. You had no idea how loud a concert grand piano could be until you'd heard Nico giving vent to her emotions.

"It's worse than that."

"She's not playing Wagner?" There was no worse mood indicator than Wagner where Nico was concerned. That was the clue to duck and take cover because there were incoming missiles.

"She's not playing anything. According to Caroline she's just sitting crying."

"Because of us?" He could feel his gut sinking.

"I guess. Sorry."

"Likewise." Callen heaved a sigh. "We've got another few months of this pregnancy to go. Please tell me it's not all going to be like this?"

"It's probably going to get worse, I guess. And this is Nico we're talking about. She's always been kind of volatile."

"And that's on a good day."

"Caroline sounded pissed. With us, not Nico."

"Oh God. Now I know we're in trouble. How about we turn the car around and head for Mexico? I hear the surf's great there this time of year."

"I'd love to. Only that would be running away."

"Sometimes you have to know when to run, Deeks. This could be one of these times. A tactical decision."

"Caroline would hunt us down. And Kensi would help her."

"True."

"Mexico would be fun, though." Deeks grinned at Callen. "Almost as much fun as watching you and Nico figuring out what to do with a baby."

"How hard can it be?"

"You ever thought maybe Sam had a full head of hair before Crosby came along? And then it all fell out?"

"My kid won't be anything like Crosby. I hope."

"So do I. that would be kind of awkward for Nico to explain."

It was going to be alright, Callen realised, with a considerable amount of relief. And working with Deeks was certainly going to be interesting.


	29. Chapter 29

The first thing Callen saw when he went into the Malibu house was a bath sitting in the hallway. A very large bath, brand new and sparkling white, although looking somewhat incongruous in its surroundings.

"Interesting new décor. Maybe a little public though? Even for a guy who wanders around without wearing any underpants half the time."

"It sort of slipped my mind that I'd ordered it," Deeks admitted and ran his hand admiringly over the pristine white sides. "It looks the business though, doesn't it?" He remembered lying in a similar bath in Edinburgh that was positioned in front of a window and boasted the most incredible view across the Firth of Forth to the low, rolling hills of Fife. While it wouldn't be possible to recreate that vista, the bathroom overlooked the gardens to the rear of the house and it should be pretty decent, once it was finished. Only the men hadn't even started work yet and it could be a long job. For a moment he regretted the impulsive purchase, but then he looked back at the custom made tub and decided that it would be worth it – eventually.

"How can you possibly forget about something so enormous? " Callen asked. And a slow smile crept over his face. "It's a great size though, I'll give you that. There's easily room for two people in there. Maybe even three." He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Don't even think about getting any kinky ideas about you having a threesome with me and Kensi. That is so not going to happen. How many times do I have to tell you that you're not my type? Now, if we were talking about Sam, that would be a different matter."

"You should be so lucky. If you must know, I was thinking more about when Nico gets really big. Too big for a normal tub, I mean. Maybe she could come over here for a bath."

"Yeah – and when your hugely pregnant lady gets stuck in the bath, I bet you'd want me to go in there and pull her out? I don't think so. Not that I haven't seen her naked, of course. Just not naked and pregnant."

Callen had always suspected that Deeks and Nico were a little more than just good friends. He just hadn't been prepared for how jealous this confirmation would make him. Not to mention desperate to find out more. "You've seen her naked?" he asked casually. Or as casually as he could, given he could feel his blood pressure rising.

"As a jaybird," Deeks said airily. "Right about here, in fact. We were in that cupboard under the stairs and of course Caroline heard the noise and came to investigate. Wow, was she mad." He smiled happily at the memory. "Caroline, that is. Mind you, Nico was kind of pissed too. I was just relieved."

"Why the hell were you doing it in there?" Despite himself, Callen really, really wanted to know. Did Nico have a thing for small, dark spaces – and if so, why hadn't she told him? "Why didn't you just use a bedroom? You've got enough."

"Because we didn't want anyone to find us," Deeks said, as if this was the natural thing in the world. Which maybe it was, among the rich and famous of Malibu. Callen didn't really have a lot of experience to judge against.

"I repeat, why didn't you just use a bedroom?" Sometimes, it was really hard to follow the convoluted twists and turns that Deeks' mind took.

"Because we were playing 'doctors and nurses' and Caroline seemed to have a sixth-sense about it. Everytime we got ready, there she'd appear and send us off to do something else instead. So we had to go somewhere private. We were eight years old, for crying out loud, and the cupboard seemed like a good place. Only, I was really, really ticklish, and when Nico poked me, I kind of squeaked."

"Admit it – you screamed like a girl."

"I was prepubescent – of course I sounded like a girl. Anyway, Nico poked, I screamed and Caroline flung open the door. End of story."

"We never bothered with anything so fancy, when I was a kid," Callen admitted. "It was more of a quick 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours' at the back of a shed and then we went off and did something more interesting, like play ball. Only, because I moved around ll the time, I got to play that game with a whole lot of different girls."

"Show off. Acually,I was kind of disappointed. It was a bit of a let down. All that expectation for not very much. But then I was only eight. And so was Nico. I guess things are a whole lot different now?" He looked at Callen expectantly.

"You'll have to keep on guessing, because there's no way I'm telling you. Not if I want to stay alive." Callen looked around expectantly. "Is it just me, or is this place kind of quiet? I was expecting more weeping and wailing."

"You're right. It's too quiet. Far too quiet." Deeks couldn't work out if this was good or bad. He took a couple of steps forward and called out "Hello?" expectantly.

Caroline came trotting along the corridor that led to the kitchen. "You took your time." She didn't looked pleased – her mouth had a pleated set to it and her brows were lowered.

"You usually complain that I drive too fast. Where's Nico - and how is she?"

"She's in the kitchen and she's a lot better now. No thanks to you two. You're no better than a pair of squabbling schoolboys. I really should put you over my knee and teach you both a lesson."

"Relive old times, eh?" The mental picture this created in Callen's mind was quite irresistible. Especially as it involved an adult Deeks, meekly submitting to Caroline's ministrations. Not that he doubted for one second that Deeks would do whatever Caroline said. She had that effect on people Hell, Callen would do what she said, and without a second thought.

"And don't you start either." Caroline turned her gaze on him. "Refusing to even go out shopping with the poor girl. It's about time you start facing up to your responsibilities, young man. It's a good thing we were able to calm her down." She turned on her heel and stalked back to the kitchen.

"We?" Deeks called, as Callen was too busy being tickled pink at being scolded like that. It made him feel like he was really part of an extended, multi-generational family. "Did Nico's mom come over?"

A strange smile came over Caroline's face, one that was hard to read. "Not Nico's mom, no." She allowed herself a broad grin. "Kensi's mom, actually. Why did you never tell me what a lovely lady she is?"

For a moment, Callen thought he might have to thump his partner on the back to stop him choking at this statement. Deeks really had boggling down to a particularly fine art. Luckily, Caroline had not expected a response to her question and had already returned to the kitchen, where no doubt she was dolling out tea and sympathy and berating men in general. Allison Blye would be in her element.

"It's all my fault." Deeks looked at Callen in horror. "I told her to come over anytime, that she didn't need an invitation. I guess I thought she'd call first. Give me time to leave the country. I've changed my mind about Mexico, Callen. I want to go there. I want to go there right now."

"Too late." Callen patted him consolingly. "It won't be that bad. I'll turn on my charm, make out like you're a really great guy. You can pay me later."

"She'll eat you for breakfast." Deeks pulled out his cell phone. "And then spit out the bones, one by one, into a neat pile. You go right on ahead. I'll be right behind you. I'm just calling for reinforcements."

Go in to the kitchen by himself? Callen blanched at the thought. Go in there, alone, and face the combined wrath of three women, all of whom were no doubt firmly convinced he was a selfish bastard? No, he'd much rather be parachuted solo into an Al Qaeda stronghold with only a butter-knife. He cast a pleading look at Deeks, who was in the middle of a conversation with Kensi and merely waved his hand in the direction of the kitchen. Traitor. And they were supposed to be partners?

"Into the valley of death… into the jaws of hell… was there a man afraid?" _Well_, y_es_, Callen thought, _there most certainly was. Me._


	30. Chapter 30

"Callen!" Nico leapt up from the table and enveloped him a bear hug. "You came back!"

"Of course I came back. I'll always come back." He disentangled himself and smiled at Allison Blye. "Nice to see you again, Mrs Blye." _God, I can be so two-faced._

"Isn't Kensi with you?" Allison sounded disappointed.

"No, she and Sam are still at work. I'm afraid you'll just have to put up with me and Deeks for a while." Callen looked hopefully at the kitchen door, but there was no sign of his partner, damn the man. He looked at Nico carefully. "Are you okay? Caroline said you were upset."

"I'm fine," Nico said, unconvincingly. "I just don't like it when you and Mikey argue like that. He's my best friend. I've known him forever and I don't want to have to choose between you."

"Because you'd choose me, right honey?" Deeks strolled into the kitchen and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "But don't tell Callen – he's got this strange idea he's number one in your life now. As if."

"You keep on talking, Deeks, that's what you're good at." Callen smiled at Nico. "We're good, okay? Everything's just fine." He pulled her back in close. "You just concentrate on looking after yourself and the baby, okay? And don't ever forget you're the most important things in my life." In the background he could hear Deeks making stilted conversation with Allison.

"Sometimes I feel left out," Nico admitted. "And I know we didn't plan this baby and it's going to change everything, but… " She sniffed loudly and Callen had the dreadful feeling she was going to burst into tears again.

"No 'buts'. This is the best thing that's ever happened to me. You _and_ the baby. So how about we go shopping this weekend? We could look at stuff online and get an idea what we want."

"I've already been doing that. And the realtor phoned up this morning and said we can move in any time we want – the house is already vacant." She brightened up visibly.

"Well, it looks as if at least two people have got somewhere to stay tonight," Caroline said crisply. "Because as of right now, this house has no water at all. And it's going to stay that way until they've connected the new plumbing for the bathroom remodel. It would have been nice if you'd thought about that, Marty."

Deeks smiled ingratiatingly at Allison. "It's sort of an early wedding present for Kensi. You know how much she likes spending time in the bathroom." _And I certainly know how much I enjoy spending time in there with her._

"That's very thoughtful of you." Allison looked genuinely surprised. "But isn't it going to be a little difficult staying here with no water?" _Maybe there's more to him than I thought?_

"More than difficult: try impossible." Caroline looked at Deeks. "I don't suppose you've phoned up a hotel yet, have you?" _Sometimes that boy doesn't have the sense he was born with. _

"Not yet. Kensi's on her way over here now. We thought we'd see where Allison fancied staying and maybe take her out tonight_?" Because there's that much less of a chance of her creating a scene if we're in a public place. Although she does seem to be making an effort._

"I didn't mean to put you out. And I should have called, before coming over. It was just that I wanted to see Kensi, and so I just jumped in the car without even thinking. I'll just wait to see her and then I go back to Pendleton."

Caroline shook her head. "Of course you won't do any such thing. Will she, Marty?"

"Of course not. I'm just sorry the house is in such a mess. I'll see what I can do to get the bathroom guys to speed things up. With any luck, we'll only be away for a couple of nights." Luck, and a whole heap of cash that would not be going through the company books, if I know how these things work. There's always someone willing to put in extra hours if the money's right.

"I've got an idea. And it could be fun." Nico looked suspiciously bright-eyed and bushy tailed, Callen thought. "We could all go over to our house and camp out."

"It's empty, sweetheart," Callen reminded her. When he'd dreamt about how he would spend his first night in the new house, only Nico had featured in his fantasies. Not Kensi, not Deeks and certainly not Allison Blye.

"Not entirely. The realtor said the last owners had heard we didn't have much stuff and they left a whole lot behind. It's up to us whether we want to keep it or not."

"Nico, it's probably broken rocking chairs and piles of TV Guide going back to the seventies. Stuff they didn't want and couldn't be bothered throwing out." _Great, they've left all their old junk and we're going to have to pay to have it taken away._

"Or it could be lovely." Nico could be as stubborn as the next pregnant lady, and then some. "And we won't know if we don't look, will we?"

"I guess." Callen knew when to concede defeat gracefully. Which was usually when defeat was inevitable and staring him right in the face – as it was right now.

"We could haul over a couple of mattresses for the girls," Deeks said thought fully. "Throw in a few sleeping bags – that sort of thing." _If I have to spend the night with Allison, then the more people that were there, the better. It would sort of help to dissipate her presence. With any luck._

"Do you know, that takes me back." Allison actually smiled at her future son-in-law. He'd have to be sure and mark this day down in his diary. "Back to when Kensi's father and I used to move to a new posting. The first night, it was a tradition that we'd camp out in the living room, eat hot dogs and sing songs. Kensi used to love it."

"Hot dogs are good. We could do hot dogs." Deeks flashed her a quick grin. "And you could tell me all about Kensi when she was little?" Maybe this actually might work? If we keep to subjects we both agree about – like how great Kensi is.

"But we're not letting Deeks sing," Callen said quickly. "Because he can't."

"He used to have a lovely voice when he was little," Caroline said in what she fondly imagined was a confidential tone of voice to Allison, but one which was actually perfectly audible to everyone in the room. "He was a boy soprano in the church choir, you know."

"What happened?" Callen enquired loudly.

Deeks gave him a knowing look. "One word: puberty. But it did have certain compensations."

"Sometimes you wish they could just stay little, don't you?" Allison said to Caroline, with a far-off look in her eyes. "But maybe there'll be a grandbaby before too long?"

An uneasy silence fell on the room, as they realised Allison did not know anything about the miscarriage.

"We'd like a family," Deeks said after a moment. "But maybe not before the wedding?" Making a joke of it was the easiest way he knew to try to change the subject. "We'd rather get that out of the way first."

Allison was easily sidetracked. "How are the plans coming along? Have you set a date yet?" _They really seemto be terribly slap-dash about the whole affair. Maybe I should offer to help?_

"I think Kensi wanted to check dates with you," Nico said, jumping into the breach. "She mentioned something about her grandmother?"

"Mother can be a little contrary," Allison admitted. "She's got very demanding as she's gotten older. She always wants to have things her own way. It can really be very difficult at times.

_Like mother, like daughter?_ With considerable difficulty, Deeks schooled his face to perfect impassivity, mainly by thinking of the ending of _Marley and Me_, which always had him sobbing buckets – behind closed doors, of course. "I can see how that might be difficult," he agreed solemnly. "But I'm sure you and Kensi can work something out. And I'll just fit in with whatever you arrange." _I know my place. And as far as this wedding is concerned, that's to do exactly as I'm told._

For a moment, Allison wondered if he was teasing her, but she decided that he actually appeared to perfectly sincere – for once. She just didn't know how to take Marty, that was the trouble. One minute he was deferential, the next moment he was defensive. And she'd gone out of her way to put him at ease. It really was very strange indeed. But, on the plus side, this was a beautiful house. With plenty of room to put in a separate apartment for when the baby came. That way, she could always be right there, whenever she was needed. It was all going to work out beautifully.

"Mom!" Kensi came rushing in, out of breath and pink in the face. "I came as soon as Marty said you were here. You should have called." _That way I could have made sure I'd warned Marty and got him out of the way before you were rude to him and he ended up saying something stupid._

Allison submitted to her daughter's embrace. "I just wanted it to be a surprise, darling. I'm sorry if I caused any trouble."

"Oh, it's no trouble, Mom – no trouble at all. Is it Marty?"

"I already told her that, Kensi."

"You want to tell me why there's a bath sitting in the middle of the hall?"

"It's a present. For you."

"Thank you. It's lovely. Really it is. But why is it in the hall?" she asked curiously.

"How about we go have a chat about that? And I'll fill you in on what else has been happening." Marty took hold of her elbow and had nearly made a successful escape when Sam blocked the doorway.

"Is your dog allowed to eat bubble-wrap?" He held out Bobby, who wagged his tail apologetically. "He was doing his best to get it off that bath you've got sitting in the hall."

"What do you think?" Taking the dog, Marty stared at him. "Do you actually want to go to the V-E-T?" Instantly, the dog's ears went flat against his head. "Thought not. We're going to have to take him with us tonight." _I wonder if a dog can eat a cast iron bath?_

"Why?" Kensi looked at him suspiciously. "Where are we going and what aren't you telling me?"

"Oh Kensi – it's going to be just like when you were little!" Allison sounded more animated than anyone had ever heard sound before. "Remember what fun it was when we moved house – how we'd scrub everything down and then sleep in the living room the first night?"

"We're moving house?" Kensi looked at Marty in disbelief. "We're moving house and you've brought my mom all the way down here to help?" The chief thing she remembered was being issued with rubber gloves and being made to scrub down a whole series of kitchen cabinets that were already sparkling clean. The whole house would smell of bleach for at least a week afterwards. Allison Blye knew how to clean and she knew how to order her troops. The Marines had missed out on a very promising commander.

"Of course we're not moving house. Why would we be moving house when we've just bought a new bath and had it shipped all the way over from Europe? I don't know why you always think the worst when something happens," he protested.

"Because I know you?"

"It's nothing like that," Nico said soothingly. It was always reassuring to see that she and Callen weren't the only ones who had the odd spat in their relationship. "We're moving into our new house today. Me and Callen, I mean. And you're all coming too."

Kensi pulled out a chair and sat down. "Okay – who wants to fill me in?" Sometimes she wondered what she had done to deserve this life. Still, on the positive side, at least Marty and Callen seemed to have resolved their differences. And her mother actually appeared to be in a good mood, which was little short of miraculous. So maybe things were actually looking up?


	31. Chapter 31

Nico sat in a well-padded armchair, upholstered in faded chintz and surveyed her new living room with considerable delight. The wooden floor gleamed, thanks to Allison Blye, who could wield a floor polished to deadly effect and Caroline had managed to unearth some curtains that were almost the right length. All in all, the effect was pleasing, even if the furniture was somewhat sparse. But that would soon be sorted. For starters, her piano was arriving tomorrow.

"And you said that the furniture would be junk," she said to Callen. "This isn't junk, is it?"

What it actually was, was flowery, Callen thought, very flowery indeed, and therefore was hardly on his list of desirable attributes for décor. It did look comfortable though, he had to give it that. And Nico looked supremely content, which was even better. "As long as you're happy, then I'm happy." He had the feeling he'd be repeating that phrase a lot over the coming days and weeks.

"Of course I'm happy." Ever since the moment Callen had carried her over the threshold, Nico had been in seventh heaven. And this chair was perfect – it was exactly the sort of shabby chic she hoped to emulate throughout the house.

"And you're sure you don't mind everyone staying here tonight? It's not too late for them to go to hotel?" Callen still harboured some faint hopes that they might be able to spend their first night alone, rather than with Deeks, his lover and her mother. It sounded like some mildly kinky European movie, he thought. Sadly, if Allison Blye was around, the reality was bound to disappoint.

"Of course I don't mind. Why would I? And it'll give you and Mikey some more time to make up," Nico said shrewdly.

"I told you – we're good. I apologised, we talked some, and everything's fine." _Why do women always want to go over and over the small details? Why can't they be more like men and just accept that basically we're all idiots and say the wrong things - and then draw a line and move on. There's no sense in going over the same old thing time and time again._

"He's my best friend, Callen." _And you both managed to hurt each other. You've got to talk about it. You can't just pretend it didn't happen. I love you both so much and it just tore me apart to see you so angry with each other. Men need to talk more and stop pretending they don't have feelings._

There were times when Callen still wondered exactly what that friendship had involved, but mostly he didn't allow himself to think too deeply on that subject. "And he's my partner. We've got to go out there and know we have each other's back. It's as simple as that." He knelt down in front of her and took hold of her hands. "We really are fine, Nico. I promise."

"God bless Hetty."

"That's not exactly the phrase I was using when she dropped that little bombshell, I can assure you. But she does work in mysterious ways."

Nico smiled to herself. She had first-hand knowledge of that, because when she was vacuuming down the sides of the chair, the suction had suddenly dropped. Pulling the nozzle back out, she'd discovered a letter, still in its envelope and addressed to "Henrietta Lang." It didn't take a genius to work out who the previous owner of the house had been nor why they had been so keen to sell at such a competitive price.

"You look happy," Callen observed.

"I am happy. And I think we can be happy here too."

The more time he spent in the house, the more Callen liked it. It was quirky, and seemed to have real character, rather than being some bland box, similar to a thousand others. "It's like it was made for us."

"Maybe it was?" Nico was looking forward to spending more time here, once the coming concert series was over and she could give full attention to the one hundred and one things that still needed to be done before the baby arrived. But until then she was content just enjoy things as they were. They had so many memories they were going to build in this place and she didn't want to miss a single moment.

* * *

><p>"I suppose it will do." Allison Blye looked at the bathroom with a critical eye. "But it's easy to see you were never a Marine."<p>

"Come on – it's gleaming," Marty protested. "You can practically see your face in the tiles." He'd scrubbed them for what seemed like hours.

"The grouting is still a bit grubby." Allison reached into the box of cleaning materials and produced a toothbrush. "Use that with some bleach."

In actual fact, it was sparkling white. "You are kidding, right? I thought that was some sort of urban myth about new recruits being made to scrub floors with their toothbrushes?"

"Then aren't you lucky I've given you a brand new toothbrush so you don't have to sully your own one? That's presuming you brought one in the first?" Allison looked at him questioningly, as if he was some grubby schoolboy.

"I use an electric one. You're too kind. Really." Marty took the toothbrush out of her hand and tried not to lose his temper as Allison remained standing and peering over his shoulder, clearly intent on supervising. "So, I guess I sort of rub it along like this?" The bristles barely made contact with the grouting.

"No, not like that. Put more effort into it."

"Okay." Marty almost managed to lever a tile off with the side of the toothbrush, such was his enthusiasm.

"Give it to me." Allison practically snatched the brush out of his hand. "Why don't you go off and make some coffee or something?"

"I can do coffee," Marty said happily and raced downstairs before she realised she'd been conned. "Your mother is going to be the death of me. Or vice versa." He pushed the kitchen door shut and then leaned against it for good measure.

"What did you do now?" Kensi's voice asked, as she knelt down with her head inside a cupboard. The familiar aroma of bleach floated up and Marty could feel his eyes beginning to water. What with it with these Blye women and caustic chemicals? But from where he stood, the view was just great.

"What do you mean 'what did I do'?" he asked indignantly. "What makes you think I did anything?"

"Experience." Kensi crawled out backwards and then sat down on the floor with a sigh and rubbed her knees ruefully. "Because I know you and I know what you're like."

"And prior knowledge." Caroline emptied a bucket of water down the sink. "You have this tendency to annoy people."

"I do not. People find me charming. And amusing. Not to mention great company."

"You just keep telling yourself that, dear." Caroline patted him on the shoulder. "And then run down to the market like a good boy and get us another few bottles of bleach."


	32. Chapter 32

"Those hot dogs smell good," Nell remarked, sniffing the air in the manner of someone who skipped lunch. "And they almost mask the smell of bleach too."

Nico shrugged. "It seems the only possible way to clean is with bleach. Lots of bleach, according to Caroline and Allison. I wasn't going to argue. Not against those two. And especially not as they insisted I was to sit back and not lift a finger. Anyway, the house was really clean to begin with – it hardly even looked lived in."

Nell handed her a gift-wrapped package. "For you. A house warming present. Sort of."

"Intriguing. That's really kind of you." She started to undo open it, as Nell watched anxiously.

"A mobile – for hanging over the baby's crib. Oh Nell, that's so sweet of you." She looked at the fluffy ducks in delight.

"You really like it? Because I could always take it back if you'd rather have something else."

"Nell, it's a wonderful gift. And so thoughtful of you. Come on, let's go and show Callen." She linked arms with the younger woman. "Look who's here!"

Nell was quickly drawn into the crowd that had gathered, mainly a mixture of NCIS agents and musicians. It was a while before Callen managed to get her alone and in a suitably quiet part of the house.

"Any word on tracking down whoever placed that misinformation in the file?" It was nagging away at the back of his mind, refusing to let go of his unconscious memory.

"Sam requested remote access to the electronic data records, showing who accessed the file, when and what was added or deleted. One of Gibbs' team is searching them for us." Nell took another bite of her hot dog. "These are really good, by the way."

"Thank Allison. She's turned out to be quite an asset. First cleaning, now cooking. Who's doing the searching – surely not DiNozzo or Ziva?"

"As if. No, it's somebody called McGhee – Timothy McGhee?"

Callen nodded. "I know came out here once, a year or so back. If there's anything to find, he'll find it."

"I still don't understand why someone here couldn't have done that. We've got all the remaining operatives in custody."

"I guess McGhee's got higher clearance than anyone in the LA office. Or maybe they thought we've already got enough on our plate? This is stretching us pretty thin."

It was too good an opportunity to miss, far too good for Nell to even consider letting the opportunity slide. "And talking of things that are thin – how's your patience?"

"My patience? It's fine, thank you very much for asking. Why?"

"Not being tested by your new partner?" She finished the hot dog and licked her fingers with obvious relish.

Callen looked at her blankly. "Deeks? Why would he test my patience?"

"Because he's not Sam?" Nell suggested. There was a wild rumour flying around the Mission that Callen and Deeks two men had engaged in a fist fight that had ended with both of them slugging it out in the pool. Not that she believed it – not entirely. But it was a great mental picture.

"And that's a bad thing why exactly? Variety is the spice of life."

"Some people are allergic to highly spiced food." Nell realised she couldn't possibly better that as a closing remark and merely punctuated it with a smile before going to help herself to a bottle of beer, leaving Callen standing open-mouthed.

"You'd better shut that before Nico sees you and thinks the stress of impending fatherhood has sent you round the bend. Or further round the bend than you already are." Sam grinned. "Sorry to miss out on all the moving-day fun." He looked around curiously. "Not that you seem to have that much in the way of furniture to actually move, of course."

"Wait until tomorrow – the piano movers are coming first thing. Closely followed by the piano tuner. Nico's more anxious about that piano than she is about the baby."

"That's because at the moment it is her baby. And that'll soon change – and not for the better. Just wait. Prepare to be scolded because you're not holding the baby properly. Or you didn't put the diaper on right. Any one of a thousand things to do with the baby – she is going to be right and you are going to be wrong."

"I don't think so. We're both equally clueless," Callen protested. "We'll be learning together."

Sam gave him a pitying look. "You might both be new to this, but you're going to be at an immediate disadvantage."

"Why?"

"Because you're a man. And that's all there is to it. Sad, but true. Just accept it and move on. It's easier that way – believe me." _Save your energy for other things, because you're going to need it. Sleep deprivation is a recognised form of torture, after all._

"It's that bad?"

"That's not the half of it. The really bad bit is when she's giving birth and calling you every name under the sun – and then some." _Not to mention the fact you have to watch your wife going through agony and all you can do is to encourage her to breathe. Me – I'd be having enough drugs to knock me out cold._

"Great. You really know how to encourage a man."

"What else are partners for?"

"You're not my partner, remember? My partner is the cool guy over there, drinking beer and revelling in the fact his partner's not pregnant. And in the fact he's already got a house full of stuff, so he doesn't have to trail around the shops looking at twenty different sofas before going back to buy the first one you looked at. My partner is that lucky bastard who doesn't have a care in the world." _And I wouldn't change places with him for anything._

"Wait till it comes to strollers." Sam was enjoying this. "Strollers are much worse. And cribs are almost as bad. You've got so many new experiences to discover."

"And yet you make it all sound so tempting."

"Go for the coolest stroller you can find. One of those all-terrain ones." Deeks strolled over to join the conversation. "Girls really dig a guy pushing a stroller – as long as it's not one of those pink ones. That just ruins the whole image."

"Go on – I know there's a story in there somewhere. One you're just dying to share with us." Despite himself, Sam was intrigued.

Callen looked at him, with a sinking heart. "You actually borrowed a baby and went out, solely to try and pick up girls, didn't you?"

"It worked." He smiled at the memory. "It worked really well."

"Kensi deserves a medal for taking you off the market. She really does."

"I make it worth her while."

Callen and Sam digested this silently. Pregnancy was all very well, but after a point it started to impose certain restrictions on your sex life. Deeks was clearly not suffering from this. It was positively hateful.

"Do you want to punch him first?" Sam whispered.

* * *

><p>At first, Callen couldn't work out where he was when the ringing of his cell woke him up. Reaching out towards the noise, he rolled off the mattress and lay on the floor for a full minute before realising that what was going on. "This better be good," he mumbled sleepily, thankful that Nico had not been woken up.<p>

"It's so far from good it's off the scale."

"Sam?" In the gloom, Callen could only just make read the face of his watch. "It's after three in the morning."

"I know. I never actually got home last night. Or this morning. Whatever. I got an urgent call to come here."

"You're at the Mission?" Callen groped his way across the room and went outside into the hall.

"Yeah. And I need you here. Along with Deeks and Kensi."

"What's up?"

"It's Nell. And it's bad. It's really bad, G." Sam sounded almost bereft. "Get yourselves over here. Please."

"We'll be there as soon as we can." Already Callen was outside their door.

"Break the speed limits. Run the lights. Do anything - just get here, because I could really do with you right now."

* * *

><p><em>Evil plot bunny demanded a return to prominence... so don't blame me for what is about to happen.<em>


	33. Chapter 33

"We'll be on our way in five minutes, Sam. Just hang on in there. We'll be with you soon." Callen ended the call, took a deep breath and knocked briefly on the bedroom door before letting himself in without waiting for a response. "Before you say anything, this is an emergency. A real emergency. And my eyes are shut. Just in case."

"My eyes are shut too," Marty's voice informed him groggily. "Because I'm trying to get back to sleep. I was having this really great dream." He raised himself up on his elbows and stared at Callen questioningly, trying to work out why the man who was silhouetted against the light coming in from the hall had found it necessary to wake him up at this ungodly hour.

"Don't bother. We're needed back at the Mission. Sam just called."

"What's up?" Kensi asked, making sure the sheet was covering her. It was a warm night, too warm to bother with any nightwear and there was just enough light shining in from the hall to make her cautious. After all, she had to work with Callen.

"Sam didn't go into details, but he sounded really shaken. It's Nell. Something's happened to Nell." Callen's voice was strained.

That snapped them both back to full consciousness in an instant and Marty sat bolt upright in bed. "Just let us get dressed and we'll be right down." Callen nodded briefly, the door shut behind him and the room was plunged back into darkness. "I'm going to guess you want me to find the light switch?" His voice sounded resigned.

"Give the man a prize for stating the obvious." Kensi started feeling around for her clothes.

"If I break my leg, don't blame me." He crawled cautiously across the floor, thankful that the mattress they'd hauled over from Malibu was the only furniture in the room. "At least we know what to get them as a present – bedside lamps."

"Maybe." Kensi blinked as the light was switched on. "Or lamp shades, maybe?" Without a shade, the light was harsh and unforgiving.

"We could get them pretty much anything and they're going to need it."

"True." Kensi pulled on her jeans. "You don't think Nell's been hurt, do you?" _You don't think she's dead do you?_

"Don't think about that." _Or it could be a whole lot worse. There has to be a reason Sam wouldn't say anything over the phone._

She looked at him blankly. "And it was such a good evening. Even mom seemed to enjoy it."

"She was on good form." Marty admitted and held out his hand. "Come on, Callen sounded pretty on edge."

That was one way to describe the man who was pacing his entrance hall, and fingering the car keys nervously. Filled with dread was another, and it was much more accurate. Callen could remember Hetty telling the team that Deeks had been shot and that Gibbs team had found a body that was identified as Macy's. And he would never forget seeing Dom being killed. But this was almost worse. It was the not-knowing that was the worst thing- the period of having to wait to find out, while your mind refused to concentrate on any one subject but roamed feverishly over a host of possibilities, each one worse that the last. At least with Macy and Dom they'd known the worst instantly. And Deeks had been shot – but he'd come through it. But Nell – he had no idea what had happened to Nell and that almost seemed unbearable.

"You want me to drive?" _I'm not sure I want to get in a car with you in this state._

He shook his head automatically. "No thanks, Deeks. I'm fine." _I should be able to cope with this._

"You're not. Not really." Kensi touched his arm. "We're all in this together, Callen. We all feel bad." _And if something bad has happened to Nell – if, God forbid, Nell's dead, then we're going to need each other like we've never done before. So don't push us away, Callen. Don't do your lone wolf impersonation – please._

"Go on then – knock yourself out." Callen softened the words with a smile that went nowhere near his eyes and tossed the keys across.

Marty caught them neatly. "You reckon this has got something to do with Frankenstein?" It was what they were all thinking, what they were all dreading.

"Possibly. Probably."

"You did leave a note for Nico?" Kensi asked, thinking of Nico waking up all alone in a strange house and wondering what had happened.

"Hell, I forgot." Callen hared back upstairs. It seemed he still had to get used to few things about this new lifestyle.

* * *

><p>It felt strange sitting in the passenger seat of the Rapide, Callen thought. It felt wrong, just as wrong as could be. He was in the passenger seat and Deeks was driving. The world had officially turned upside down. <em>This shouldn't be happening. I should be back in bed with Nico, dreaming our dreams. Just for once, couldn't we be happy?<em> "You put so much as a dent in my car, Deeks and I'll…. " The sentence tailed off. "And I'll be really pissed," he finished lamely.

"Not nearly as pissed as Hetty."

"I wonder If Sam's been able to get in contact with her?" Kensi mused. "She was pretty insistent that she wanted a proper holiday." _Somehow, I just can't see Hetty kicking back in Cancun. But who knows? Stranger things have happened, especially with Hetty. For all I know, she could be living it up at a Lady Gaga convention right now._

Callen shook his head. "Hetty will have made sure she's contactable in an emergency." At least he hoped so. If things were as bad as he feared they were, Hetty was going to want to be there. And they would need her, of that Callen was certain.

Marty drove through the almost empty streets, driving as fast as he dared, but not wanting to risk getting pulled over. All he could think of was that this sounded really bad. And why did it have to be Nell? Nell who was sweet, and funny and who was so damned smart it made your eyes water. Nell, with her cute hair and her quirky dress sense and who never seemed to let things get her down. It shouldn't have happened to Nell – whatever it was. She'd shown she was willing to put herself in danger and go out into the field, but it really was above and beyond the call of duty. And now it had all gone wrong. Marty could feel a ball of anger burning in his chest at the injustice of it all.

In the back seat, Kensi toyed with her cell. Sure – Hetty had said she didn't want to be disturbed on holiday – but that was then, and this was now. When Hetty had walked out of the Mission, she had no idea that anything would happen to Nell. And Kensi knew beyond a shadow of doubt that Hetty would want to be there for Nell, because that was what Hetty was like. She was a manager in the grand tradition who would stand up for her staff, come what may; who would always be there for them. She would want to be there for any of them. It didn't seem fair not to let her know. Surreptitiously, Kensi composed a brief text and sent it off before she could have second thoughts. It seemed the right thing to do. _If I was in Hetty's position, I'd want to know,_ she reasoned. _And I'd want to know sooner rather than later._ She tried hard not to think about the fact it might already be too late.

They made it to the Mission in pretty near record time. Normally, at this time of night there would only be a few people around, the essential core night staff, or those unlucky enough to be caught up in the sort of enquiry that meant you basically lived at work until it was over, catching your sleep when and where you could. This night was different. Instead of the ground being illuminated by only a few isolated pools of concentrated light that were focused intently down onto individual desks, the Mission was lit up as if in expectation of a party. Tonight it seemed as if every single light-bulb was burning brightly in defiance of the night, maybe even in an attempt to keep the darkness at bay. Sam was waiting for them, a grim look on his face.

"They've taken Nell." He balled up one fist and smashed it into the opposite hand. "Those bastards took Nell and I couldn't stop them."

"You want to rewind that?" Marty suggested. "Let us in on the full story?"

"You want the full story? I'll give you the full story." Eric had been annoyed on occasion, he'd even been known to be hacked off, especially the time when Kensi had accidentally spilt coffee and fried his favourite keyboard, but none of them had even seen him in a tearing rage before. It was an impressive sight as he stormed down the stairs in full flood. "Someone's framed Nell, that's what they've done. They've managed to implicate her in this whole fucking mess and now she's been taken away." Eric's face was scarlet and his voice was trembling with rage. But it was the look in his eyes that was truly terrifying.

"What?" Callen felt as if he'd wandered into some alternate universe. "On what possible grounds?" _Nell? They've arrested Nell? This doesn't make any sense._

"Behaviour likely to threaten national security – and that was only the begining. You name it – they've threatened her with it," Sam said. He hated this feeling of being so helpless, of knowing that something was so wrong and yet being powerless to prevent it happening.

"Piffle. I've never heard such nonsense in my entire life." Hetty stalked forward and stood directly in front of him. "This is completely outrageous. It's more than that - it's complete and utter balderdash. And I'm going to put a stop to it right now."

"I'm not even going to ask how you found out, Hetty," Sam said, "Because right now I'm so pleased to see you that I almost kiss you."

"Secret ninja powers," Marty said in an undertone to Kensi. "Powers of prophecy and divination." He could just seek Hetty poring over the bones of some animal and pondering the future.

"Pity they're not hereditary. You could have avoided a whole lot of unfortunate accidents." Kensi hoped Hetty wasn't about to give her away. It looked like she hadn't gone far away from work after all, and for that Kensi was truly grateful.

Hetty ignored them. It was very late, after all. "I'll take that offer in the spirit in which it was undoubtedly intended, Mr Hannah – without any physical contact, if you don't mind. Now, fill me in on this poppycock someone is spreading about my analyst. Who could possibly want to frame Nell – and why?"

"That's the $64,000 dollar question."

"That's showing your age, Callen."

Drawing herself up to her full height, Hetty regarded her team impassively. "Mr Callen is in his prime, just as I am. I reached that happy state some years ago and I determined then that I would stay in my prime until my dying day. And I fully intend to ensure that Ms Jones not only reaches her prime, but that she does so in complete and unfettered liberty. And if I have to crawl up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial as naked as the day I was born to achieve that aim, then that is what I will do."

It sounded very like a declaration of war. And that was just fine, because they weren't going to let Nell go without one hell of a fight – no matter who they had to fight against.


	34. Chapter 34

Eric came down the stairs to join them. "McGhee seemed a decent enough guy when he came out here with Gibbs, but clearly I misread things." His body was taut with fury.

"McGhee? He's the one that's accused Nell?" Callen shook his head in disbelief.

"That's not exactly fair." Sam knew he had to give an objective account to the team. "McGhee was tasked with going through the IT logs. He found evidence that was traced directly back to Nell making amendments to the files – and he had to report it. He was only doing his job. All he did was find the evidence."

"Who's to say that McGhee didn't plant a false trail and erase all the real evidence? For all we know, he could be the one we're looking for? This could just be his way of trying to put the blame on someone else."

"There comes a time when you have to trust someone, Eric," Hetty reminded him. "And everything I have heard about Mr McGhee suggests that not only does he have superlative skills when it comes to computers, but also that he is entirely upright and honourable. Until you can present me with concrete evidence that he is not to be trusted, then I am going to insist that he is to be regarded as entirely innocent."

"So's Nell!" Eric exploded. "I can't think of anything more fucking stupid than to even think that she might do such a thing."

"So prove it to me," Hetty said calmly. "Find me the evidence that will exonerate Miss Jones and I will personally make sure that justice is not only done, but that it is seen to be done. You have my promise on that." She took a deep breath, aware that she was finding it almost impossible to stay objective on this matter. "And now, you will have to excuse me. I have a few phone calls to make."

"Someone is going to be woken up," Callen said, looking at his watch and finding it was still far too early for any sane person to be up and working. "And if they're unhappy about that, they're going to be positively miserable by the time Hetty's finished with them." He had no doubt that Hetty would be using her unparalleled series of contacts to find out where Nell was and then to do whatever she could to bring her back to the Mission, under her own personal recognisance, if necessary. But until then there was a job to be done. Only, he wasn't in charge right now – Sam was. That was still taking some getting used to. "Where do you want us to start?"

"With those records, I guess. Eric – can you take us through the evidence?"

Kensi stifled a yawn. "Would anyone object if I made a supply run to the all-night place and got us an early breakfast? We'd probably all work a lot better that way."

"Coffee," Marty said succinctly. "Gallons of coffee." While he could make do with the stuff available in the Mission, the best that could be said for it was that was both warm and wet. Any resemblance to real coffee with a high caffeine content was purely co-incidental.

Sam could see the benefit to her suggestion. "Orange juice – freshly squeezed. You want a banana, G? Keep those potassium levels up?"

"Why not?" It seemed a long time since he'd eaten those hot dogs last night.

"I was thinking about a breakfast burrito," Kensi confessed. "Anyone want to join me?"

"Why not? There are worse ways to die."

"Death by paperwork?" Marty asked wryly, as the printer started to churn out pages of printouts, logging each access to the secure electronic copy of the Frankenstein dossier, narrating where the interrogator was located, their security level and any amendments that had been mad. While Eric scoured the IT systems, they were going to do this the old-fashioned way – checking and cross-checking each fact, each data entry, trying to find the one vital piece of evidence that could prove Nell's innocence. There had to be something in the morass of information that could sort this out – it was just a matter of finding it. And looking at the amount of evidence, that was going to be like finding a leaf in a forest – not impossible, just very unlikely.

Meanwhile, in Hetty's office, the phone lines were ringing hot and furious. Thus far, she had put up with duplicity and treachery; she had seen the extremes to which men would go to when they mistook overweening ambition for patriotism and she had even survived a brutal attempt on her own life, not to mention attempts to kill her agents. But this was the last straw. It was now time to draw a line in the sand and to hold firm if Operation Frankenstein was ever to be brought to an end. Too many lives had either been ruined or cut short and brought to a brutal end. She would hold fast until sanity prevailed – or she would die in the attempt. Too many times in the past Hetty had seen the innocent fall victim to the vagaries of fortune, ill or otherwise and too many had fallen victim to outrageous schemes that should have been scotched at the outset. There came a time when someone had to stand up and protest, no matter what the personal cost.

* * *

><p>"Hi Mom, I'm sorry we had to leave – but something urgent came up at work." Kensi was grateful for the opportunity to get into the fresh air. Her head was buzzing from the morass of information she'd been poring over for hours now. The normal banter that punctuated life in the bullpen had been noticeable by its absence, as all four agents had kept their heads down, intent on trying to find some small item of evidence that could lead to a break through. So far, all they had been able to ascertain was that whoever had framed Nell had done an excellent job. All the suspect entries had been made using Nell's unique identifier. It was pretty damning evidence.<p>

"I'm fine, darling. We've had an interesting morning, as Nico's piano arrived. And then we've looked at some furniture catalogues, so she could get a few ideas. Do you think you're going to be much longer?" Allison was used to members of her family being called away at a moment's notice, but she was also longing to spend some real time with her daughter.

"I don't know. This is pretty important." Kensi sighed and stared up at the sky, where a lone gull was circling idly above in a pristine sky. The world must seem very different up there, she thought. All the problems would seem so small and insignificant. If only she could gain that perspective. Then again, maybe she could. "Mom? You don't have to rush back, do you? It's just that… I've missed you. I've missed spending time with you." There was a part of Kensi that would always stay a little girl, looking for the comfort of her parent, no matter how old she was. She still needed to know that her mother was there, and was giving her the same unconditional love that she always had done.

"I'll stay as long as you want me too, Kensi. You know that." Allison could feel her eyes start to fill up with tears. "All you have to do is ask me. I'd do anything for you, darling."

"I love you too, Mom." Kensi smiled as she watched the gull coasting on a current of air, hardly having to move its wings at all; perfectly content to let itself be taken wherever the element dictated. "There is one thing you could do for me though – for all of us, actually."

"You only have to ask," Allison repeated. _That's all you ever had to do. Just ask – and I'll be right there. What was that your father used to say? Oh yes – 'no names, no pack drill'. Just ask me sometimes, Kensi. Let me feel I'm still part of your life, that I still matter to you. Because I still need to be needed._

When she eventually finished the call, Kensi's heart felt lighter than it had done in days. Maybe once they'd sorted out this whole mess with Nell, she could actually start to plan her wedding? And with a bit of luck, Marty and her Mom might actually call a truce long enough to have a dance together at the reception.

"You were gone long enough." Sam was beginning to see double. He was beginning to understand why Deeks was using a ruler to go down each line of information individually and wished he'd followed his example.

"You'll thank me for it, I promise you." Kensi pulled over another sheaf of printouts and stared at them unenthusiastically. "Anybody want to tell me we've made a break through?"

"I wish. Just loads of data that doesn't seem to go anywhere. I'm beginning to think McGhee might have been right." Marty sat up straight and stretched his back. "Only that can't be possible."

"Eliminate the impossible, as Sherlock Holmes would say. And then what's left, no matter how improbable, must be the truth."

Marty stared at her incredulously. "You might just have something there." He rifled through the printouts and a smile crept across his face as he re-examined a sheet. "Bingo. Kensi, did I ever tell you how wonderful you are?" Before she could answer, he went bounding up to Ops.

"You want to tell me what I said?" Kensi implored.

"Beats me. But let's just go see what's got him so excited." Apart from anything else, Callen needed a break from the relentless concentration on dull facts. He wasn't accustomed to sitting for hours at a desk and it was alien to his nature. When something was wrong, he wanted to be out there, actively sorting things out.

"Am I right, or am I right?" Marty jabbed at the printout and then at Eric's screen. "There's no way Nell could have made that entry – not according to the time stamp."

"You're right." A smile crept across Eric's face. "By Jove, I think you've got it."

"That has to be the worst English accent I've ever heard."

"It's almost as bad as your French accent, G. The one that makes French people think you're Canadian." Sam moved in to look at the images on the screen. "That's footage from the security cameras. And how's that going to help us?"

"Take a closer look," Eric invited.

"Do I have too? It's the day Deeks was trotting around here in those tight black underpants. I've been trying to wipe it from my memory ever since. I'm still considering suing for psychological damage." _That was only a few weeks ago, _Sam thought_. It seems like a lifetime ago. That was when Kensi had just discovered she was pregnant and she and Deeks look so damned happy._

"Envy will get you nowhere. If you've got it – flaunt it."

"You're not helping your case here, Deeks. Exactly what do you have to flaunt?"

"Shut up and look at the screen. Look – there's Kensi and Deeks, you and Denise, Hetty, Callen, me – and who's that standing next to Hetty? Standing well away from any computer equipment?"

"Nell." Callen looked at the date stamp on the footage. "And there was an entry in the log at exactly the same time?"

"Oh yes. Time and date match exactly. And I'm sure if I go back through the security footage I can find other examples." Eric leaned back in his chair and punched the air triumphantly. "Proof beyond reasonable doubt, I think. There's no way Nell could have been entering data in to the log – not unless she'd cloned herself."

"How about you go give Hetty the good news? Stop her before she personally goes and berates President Obama, the Head of United Nations and anyone else in her little black book," Sam invited. Once Eric had gone, he shook his head. "That might be Nell off the hook, but we're still no nearer finding out who actually was behind all this." He had this dreadful feeling that they might never get to the full murky depths of the stagnant pool of misery that was Operation Frankenstein. Still, if one careless mistake had been made, who was to say that there might not be others?

Callen looked at his watch. "We've been here for twelve hours," he observed and led the way downstairs again. With any luck he'd manage to get home before dark. Home – that sounded so good. His home. His home with Nico – that sounded even better.

"And yet it seems so much longer." That breakfast burrito had been insanely good, but now Kensi was ready for something more substantial.

"I must be more tired than I thought. Because I could swear I can smell pizza. Pepperoni pizza, to be exact." Marty sniffed loudly. "With extra cheese."

"You can't smell extra cheese," Sam protested.

"Want to bet on that?" He bounded down the stairs and then skidded to a halt as Allison appeared, her arms full of pizza boxes.

"Kensi suggested I brought over some food. You must be hungry."

"And you brought pizza? Inspired choice." Marty opened the top box and sighed happily. "Pepperoni pizza – and with extra cheese. What could be better? Allison, I think I love you. "

"You have to have extra cheese, don't you?" Allison said, and smiled at him. Maybe Kensi was right after all, and he really was Mr Right? Or even Detective Right? There was even a chance that she might not be losing a daughter after all, but gaining a son instead. What was that old rhyme?

"_A son is a son, till he gets him a wife,_

_But a daughter's a daughter for the rest of your life."_

Well, just maybe she was getting the best of both worlds.

"Thanks, Mom." Kensi gave her mother a kiss, before helping herself to a slice of Marty's pizza.

"Any time, darling – you know that. Any time I can do anything to help, all you have to do is ask."


	35. Chapter 35

"Can I ask for another slice of pizza?" Marty asked ingratiatingly. "And then how about when we get out of here, we go for dinner and try and work out a date for this wedding between the three of us?"

"That sounds like a plan. Are you up for that, Mom?"

"How about we make it my treat?" It seemed the least she could do, Allison thought. All of a sudden, life was looking very good indeed.

"Did you leave me any pizza?" Sam asked, beaming from ear to ear and desperate to share his news. "I've just contacted Hetty and we're sending the data to her as we speak. She's confident that this will be the nail in the coffin as far as any charges against Nell are concerned. And I got the impression that she's not leaving until she's got Nell's hot little hand clenched firmly in her own." Having finished the announcement, he picked up a slice of pizza and crammed it into his mouth, eyes bulging with pleasure. "Oh my God. I didn't realise how hungry I was. Whose inspired idea was this?"

"Mom's," Kensi said proudly.

"Mrs Blye – you are a goddess among women." Sam essayed a brief bow. "How about you pass some of your skills onto your daughter?"

"That's what I want to know," Marty said in an undertone, hugging Kensi tightly to him. "But I guess you inherited other talents, eh?"

"Yeah – like beating up fresh guys who make improper suggestions in public places."

Sam helped himself to another slice, which disappeared as fast as the first one had done. "Okay, when we've finished this, how about we all call it a day? Finish early and come back tomorrow – when Nell and Hetty will be here."

"I won't able to be here," Callen said slowly. "Not in the morning. It's Charlie's funeral tomorrow." He shrugged. "Nico and I figured we'd probably go on afterwards as well, see how they're all doing – you know?"

"We won't expect you," Sam said firmly. He tried to push away the thought that some day this might be himself and Denise talking about Callen's funeral, because he wasn't going there. He wasn't even going to think about such a thing or even admit that there might be such a possibility. Sam didn't believe in fate, but nevertheless there was no point in tempting it – even if it didn't exist. "You just take all the time you need. This place won't fall apart just because you're not here for one day.."

"That's blasphemy, surely? Isn't it written into the OSP constitution that I'm essential?" Callen managed a certain lightness of tone, but it was noticeable that the smile on his face was more than a little forced.

"No way – you're confusing yourself with Hetty. Bad mistake." Marty was as aware of the tension in the air as anyone else. The death of a colleague always hit hard, made you start wondering and asking yourself that perennial question: what if. What if it was me? What if it was Kensi? The realisation that he would rather die than have to face Kensi's death hit him like a ton of bricks. _I'm really in deep here. In this for the long run. So this is what commitment feels like - when you're willing to go all the way – and then some. When you love her more than life itself._

"he's got delusions of grandeur. Maybe we should get Nate to bring him back down to earth? Put things into perspective?" Kensi knew how Callen felt – Dom's death had hit her hard and she felt as if she had let him down in some way – as if she should have been there. Only that seemed like a lifetime ago. That was before she'd known Marty – and that part of her life now seemed a thousand years ago. She'd been a different person back then, Kensi realised – someone who was drifting along aimlessly, without purpose or any set course in life; merely existing, rather than living. Everything had changed the minute she'd met Marty. And now he was her pole star, the one fixed point against which everything else in her life would be defined.

"Maybe we should just all go home?" The pizza was long gone and the tiredness was starting to hit home now that the urgent need for action had finally ended. Besides which, Callen realised he hadn't seen Nico all day and knew that he needed to see her, needed to know that she was alright, that she was right there waiting for him at home. Their home: the place they were going to spend the rest of their lives in together.

"Don't wait up for us. I've got a hot date with two ladies tonight." Marty took hold of Kensi's hand and then stretched out towards Allison, who took hold of it with a smile.

"It's been a long time since I've been out with a handsome young man." And then she gave his fingers a squeeze. _This is the man who makes my daughter so full of joy that she sometimes looks as if she is going to burst. He's going to give her everything I could ever want for her – a happy family life. _

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Callen adjusted his tie in the mirror and watched as Nico pulled on a black jacket and tried unsuccessfully to make it button across either her belly or her breasts.<p>

"Of course I am. I want to be there for you. Just like you've sat through my concerts and managed not to fall asleep." Nico gave up trying to fasten the jacket as a bad job and settled for draping a sombre coloured scarf around her neck instead. "We're a partnership."

"He was a nice guy, Charlie. I think you would have liked him."

"I'm sure I would have." She stoked his hair gently. "Is this ever going to end, Callen? All this death that Operation Frankenstein seems to create?"

"I think we're getting close. There's just a few more pieces of the puzzle to put into place and then we should be ready to put those responsible behind bars for a long time."

"And?" she coaxed. "Oh come on! You can't say that and then not expect me to ask. That's not fair."

"It's nothing we can prove – not yet. More like a hunch I have." He didn't want to jinx things, not when it was all finally starting to come together. "Okay – are we ready?"

"I'm ready." Nico looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. She looked enormous – and she still had weeks to go. "I'm bigger than Denise – and she's further along than me. It's not fair."

"You look gorgeous. Totally wonderful." It was true, he realised. Nico just seemed to look better with each passing day. And time was passing – passing quickly. "How about we go shopping this weekend for the nursery?" It was time to start planning for the future, because soon his dreams were about to come true.

"I'd like that," Nico said. "I'd like that a lot." And it wouldn't take too long, because she already had everything picked out. Of course, she'd have to pretend to be overwhelmed by the choice and take at least half an hour before deciding, but that was alright - it would still leave them plenty of time to pick out bedroom furniture and maybe even a dining suite. After that, it was a fair bet that Callen would be more than happy to let her do all the rest of the shopping via the internet. There was only so much retail therapy a man could take, after all.

* * *

><p>"You look tired," Sam said and then regretted it immediately. There was no way he wanted to see that sly smile creep across Deeks' face: the once that reminded him just how long it had been since Denise was in the mood. He remembered what it was to have an active sex life – just about.<p>

"Long night. We had a lot to talk about." Marty stretched and yawned. "Why did nobody tell me that planning a wedding is more logistically complicated that organising the D-Day landings?"

"My grandmother is coming down from Michigan. By car, with Aunt Jean and Uncle Bert," Kensi said wearily. "And she's got a weak bladder. They have to stop every couple of hours." She flopped forwards onto the desk and buried her head in her hands. The thought was too ghastly to even contemplate, especially if they happened to get stuck on the freeway in rush hour traffic. God alon knew what would happen.

"It's going to take weeks. They deserve a medal," Marty said darkly. "Either that or they should be locked up." Arranging for his father and Rowena to come over from Scotland had been child's play by comparison.

Kensi lifted her head and stared blearily at Sam. "We've got a favour to ask you. And it's a big one."

"I'm not wearing a kilt. I want to make that quite clear. But apart from that – I'm open to negotiation."

"Well, near as we can work it out, your new baby should be about three weeks old, and Nico should still have about a month to go. So it's not the best timing…"

"But we kind of wanted to get married this century. What Kensi's trying to say is that we want Crosby to be the ring bearer. Would you and Denise be okay with that?"

"I guess." For once, Sam was bashful. "You really want him to be part of the whole wedding? You're not just saying that to be nice?" He tried very hard not to show how overwhelmed he was by the offer.

"We really want him," Marty confirmed. "It was either him or Bobby, and Crosby's marginally better trained – considering who his father is."

"We tried to work out a way to have you and Callen involved too, but Marty's asked his dad to be his best man and Mom was really keen that Gibbs should give me away. He and my dad were pals, and it means a lot to her." It hadn't escaped Kensi's notice that Allison appeared to have deepened her friendship with Gibbs over the past few weeks. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about it – but her mother seemed happy and she was certainly less prickly. Besides which, she kind of liked Gibbs and it would be the next best thing to actually having her dad there.

"So?" Marty prompted. "Can we have Crosby?"

"Definitely." Sam extended his hand. "It's an honour, man. An absolute honour." Now, all he had to do was work out a suitable bribe to make sure the little tyke behaved.


	36. Chapter 36

When Nell awoke, it was with some confusion. This wasn't her room, with the sun coming pouring in through the sheer net curtains. She ddin't have a brass bed for starters. And she certainly didn't have wallpaper that was covered with a profusion of rosebuds, far less a fireplace. _Who on earth has a fireplace in their bedroom?_ she wondered sleepily. Of course, there was only one possible answer to that, and a polite knock at the door announced the arrival of the lady herself.

"I hope I didn't wake you?" Despite the early hour, Hetty was not only up but fully dressed. It was somehow impossible to think of Hetty in nightclothes.

"No, I was awake." Nell lay back on the pillows and smiled at her hostess. When Hetty had arrived yesterday, breathing fire and brimstone, Nell had known with complete certainty that her nightmare was about to end. With remarkably little effort, Hetty had cut through official protests politely but firmly and brooking no possible objection to her proposal that she should be released.

"My own personal guarantee should be enough. Or would you prefer I have Sec Nav offer some other form of surety?" She stared blandly, daring them to call her bluff, all the while knowing she was on to a sure thing. That was the advantage of having a formidable reputation – it tended to precede her and put the fear of death into people.

Agreement was being reluctantly agreed when the call came, the blessed call that ended any question of prolonged incarceration, the call that started the wheels in motion and ended up with all charges being dropped and Nell being issued with an official apology. By that stage she was so tired she could almost have cried from sheer exhaustion and had thus not been able to put up even a token resistance to Hetty's proposal that she stay the night.

"Did you sleep well, dear?"

"Like a log," Nell confessed. "I think I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillows."

"You clearly needed it then." Standing at the foot of the bed, Hetty placed both her hands on the footrail and gripped tightly. "I really am so very sorry. I can't begin to apologise enough for what happened."

"It wasn't your fault."

"It happened on my watch – or rather what should have been my watch. Only I wasn't there."

"You can't be everywhere." Nell felt uncomfortable: it was as if she was seeing a side of Hetty that was normally kept well-hidden. "You're only one woman. There's limits to what even you can do. You can't be responsible for all of, all of the time."

"But that's the problem – because I do feel responsible. You are all here – in OSP, I mean – because of me. You are my team. Each one of you was hand-picked by me. So that makes me responsible for you. You don't think I would accept just anyone, do you?" A hint of the familiar ascerbity was creeping back into her voice now.

"You personally chose me? Wow." Nell's eyes widened in surprise.

"I personally chose you," she confirmed. "Out of all the candidates I was presented with, you were the only one I would have considered. Does that make you feel any differently about continuing to work for NCIS?"

Okay, this was getting seriously weird. Either she'd said something last night, or Hetty had just developed mind-reading capabilities. "How did you know I was thinking about resigning?"

"I know you, Nell. If I didn't know you after all the time we've spent together, then I wouldn't be dong my job and I wouldn't be fit to do my job. And you haven't answered my question."

"I don't know. I honestly don't know how I feel right now." _Apart from scared. Scared it will happen again and you won't be there next time._

"Perhaps you should think over your options? After breakfast, of course. It's impossible to think clearly before breakfast, I always think; the Queen notwithstanding."

"The Queen?" Nell asked faintly, beginning to wonder what other guests Hetty had entertained. She knew her boss had an impressive list of contacts, but even so…

"From _Alice in Wonderland_, of course. The Queen of Hearts said she often believed up to six impossible things before breakfast – but then she was a very unusual lady. You really should read more widely, Nell. As you get older, you'll find comfort and solace in a book that is an old friend. Unlike people, they never let you down and are always there exactly when you need them." With that parting shot, Hetty withdrew, leaving her young guest to wonder if she had just fallen down a rabbit hole herself.

Unfortunately, things were no clearer after breakfast. All Nell was certain of was that although she loved her job, she was terrified of the possible ramifications of her job and the accusations that might be levelled against her. One thought kept running through her mind: what if there was no Hetty to protect her next time something happened?

"I told you before – I am only one person. I'm a small cog in a very large machine. Don't over-estimate my importance, Nell."

"Sometimes the absence of one small cog can mean the whole machine stops working."

"Don't overestimate my importance: I can be replaced. One day, I will be replaced. Besides, it was the team who discovered the proof of your innocence – the whole team, working together."

"But it was you who went to bat for me," Nell insisted.

"And if I hadn't been there, then it would have been Sam. There will always be someone, Nell – I can promise you that."

It was reassuring, but Nell still wasn't sure. The shiny excitement of her job had disappeared – it was now tarnished with a dull fear that she could not subdue. She'd been so frightened… it would be hard to forget that, to move on from that and to stop worrying that it was going to happen all over again. There had been a time when she had harboured hopes of maybe going out into the field as an agent, in the same way Nate had done, but now she knew that was not even a possibility. Having to look over your shoulder the whole time, always being on the alert, being prepared to be taken captive – yesterday had shown Nell that she could not cope with those sorts of pressures. She'd started crying the moment she was hustled into the anonymous dark sedan and she'd continued crying pretty much up to the point when Hetty had helped her into bed and had tucked her under the covers with a hot water bottle because she was shivering so much. Perhaps it was her imagination, but Nell had the impression Hetty had even kissed her on the forehead last night.

"How do you do it?" she asked curiously. "How do you cope with all the strain and the knowing that at many moment things could go wrong?"

Hetty thought for a moment. "We do it because someone has to. And because, deep down, every agent thinks that he or she is invincible – that it will never happen to them." She looked at her watch and realised that Charles Brent's funeral was about to take place. "Of course, we are either very stupid or very good at deceiving ourselves."

They drove in silence for a few moments longer. "You have to make a choice, Nell and time is running out."

"I have to decide now?" Nell felt her stomach clench in fear.

"You do. So let's break it down: right now you have to decide if you are taking the day off or if you are coming into work with me." It was best to take things in easily digestible chunks, Hetty had found. Tackle the small issues first and watch as the larger problems start to gain greater clarity.

"I'm coming in," Nell said decisively. "Apart from anything else, I want to see everyone – and to thank them."

"Then that's what we'll do." Hetty permitted herself the luxury of a smile. It was a small step, but after all, as dear Lao-Tzu had said, the longest journey begins with a single step.

* * *

><p>"She's coming!" All morning, Eric had been monitoring the security cameras, just waiting for this moment. "Hetty's just pulled into the garage and Nell's with her." He looked at the team. "You're all ready?"<p>

Sam gave him a cold look. "We're highly trained agents – I think we can manage this."

"I don't know – I might have to go and lie down afterwards."

"That's because you're not an agent, Deeks – so it might be a bit much for you. Just make sure you go and lie down alone. No sex on the job. Not while I'm still in charge."

"Really? I thought things were going to get better when Hetty went on vacation – I was wrong."

"Why do you sound so surprised? You should be used to being wrong by now. That's pretty much the story of your life."

"And I thought that things couldn't get any worse than listening to you and Callen do that whole buddy-bickering business. Looks like I was wrong. If I close my eyes, it's hard to tell the difference." Kensi shook her head sadly. "

"But if you open them again, you'll see I'm a whole lot taller, better looking and with great hair."

"Don't delude yourself, Deeks."

"You can't deny he's taller than Callen."

"That's not saying much. Everyone's taller than Callen. Except Hetty. And Nell. But apart from that…"

"Shut up. And get in position." Eric leant over the railings. "They should be coming in any moment."

If Nell had harboured secret hopes that she could make an unobtrusive entrance, she was doomed to disappointment. A veritable barrage of party poppers greeted her arrival and in seconds she was covered in a mixture of streamers and confetti.

"It was Eric's idea," Kensi whispered as she hugged her. "But we've all missed you. Welcome back."

And the strange thing was that in an instant, Nell realised that there was nowhere else she would rather be, because this was where she belonged.


	37. Chapter 37

She looked up and saw Eric standing to one side and apart from the throng; standing alone and shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. There was something subtly different about him she realised, something she could not quite put her finger on at first. It was Eric – and yet it was not Eric. It was most peculiar, Nell thought. And then she realised what was different. "Eric – you're wearing jeans!"

He gave her a bashful smile. "I thought we might go out to lunch today – and I didn't want you to be embarrassed by me."

"Why would I ever be embarrassed by you?" Nell disentangled herself from Kensi's embrace and went over to speak to him. "And I'd love to go out to lunch with you. Any time at all. And it doesn't matter what you're wearing."

"I know I gave you a hard time at first," Eric said in a low voice. "I could have been nicer – more welcoming. My mom always said I was never too good at sharing my toys with other kids and I guess things haven't changed much. But everything seemed wrong when they took you away the other day. It was like they'd taken away my left arm, or something like that. Nothing seemed right and I realised how well we work together. It made me realise a whole lot of stuff about you and me, made me realise that we're partners, just as much as any Kensi and Deeks, or Sam and Callen. We're a team and we work best when we're together." He'd never thought this would happen – being willing to share his work. But working with Nell had opened up his mind to so many possibilities, so many different approaches. She was the ying to his yang, the salt in his marguerite.

"You and me against the world," Nell confirmed. "Together, there's no system we can't hack into, no data we can't uncover." She held out her hand. "Partners?"

"Partners." Eric shook her hand and smiled at her. "Welcome back, Nell."

Standing on tiptoes, she kissed him on the cheek. "And thank you for the welcome back. It was amazing."

"Don't tell anyone – but I've got a few party poppers put by – I'm saving them for the next time I have to summon them up to Ops. Aren't they going to hate that?" Eric knew just how much his method of announcing alerts kept the team on their toes and tried to keep ringing the changes as often as possible.

"Sounds perfect." Real life was scary sometimes, Nell realised – but she now knew that the team were looking out for her and that she was not alone. And so what if she was not going to be working in the field, doing all the death or glory stuff? The scary stuff… the stuff that could get you killed – or worse. There were other jobs to do, jobs that were vital to support the agents. Nell had first-hand experience of just how important it was to have proper back-up. Without research and fact-finding, she wouldn't be standing here right now, after all.

Hetty?" Her voice rang clearly above all the noise. "I've decided."

All Hetty needed to do was to look at the shining expression in Nell's eyes to know. For once, she had no rejoinder to offer, no pithy phrase with which to punctuate the conversation. A nod and a smile were perfectly sufficient.

It fell to Kensi to put the shining crown on the day. Pulling Nell aside, she looked around furtively. "What are you doing in six weeks time? On the Saturday?" Her voice was low and urgent, and her fingesr tightened around Nell's wrist.

"Nothing – I don't think. Is there something planned?"

"You could say that." Checking that nobody could possibly overhear her, Kensi whispered, "After what seems like months of planning, we've finally settled on a date. For our wedding," she amplified, somewhat unnecessarily.

"Really? That's so exciting!" Nell squealed.

"Not so loud," Kensi pleaded. "We're trying to keep it low-key."

"Yeah. Good luck with that."

"You're not filling me with confidence here."

"Well, we've all been waiting for long enough. You really have kept us all dangling on the end of a string."

"Excuse me? This is our wedding, it's about me and Marty and it's got nothing to do with anyone else."

Nell tried hard not to laugh. "Kensi, from the moment I started work here, you and Deeks have been the main topic of conversation – all the _'Will they? Won't they?_' has been discussed in mind-blowing detail. And you wouldn't believe the amount of betting that went on. "

_Great, my personal life is now a topic for conversation at the water coolers and the powder room. And probably even at the urinals. Now, that's a picture I really don't want to think about in any detail_. "Betting?" There was a dangerous edge to Kensi's voice, but Nell was too caught up in her story.

"Oh yes. Would you two ever get together – and if so, how long would it take? And then, once you actually were together, they started betting on how long would it last. And lately it's been 'will they ever get married'?" Nell caught sight of the expression on Kensi's face. "I've probably said too much, haven't I?" _Oh boy. I've really put my foot in it this time. I wonder if Eric fancies an early lunch – before I take an early bath._

"Who's running this betting syndicate?" _Because they are dead meat. It has to be either Callen or Sam._

Nell shrugged her shoulders. "You didn't hear this from me."

"Of course I didn't." Kensi's fingers tightened painfully and it was all that Nell could do not to whimper aloud. "Tell me."

"Hetty. It's Hetty, alright? She announces the odds and takes in the bets."

Of all the unlikely answers, that one was about as predictable as either the Pope running off with Kate Perry or Justin Beiber's voice finally breaking. Kensi mulled the possibilities over in her mind.

"What are you going to do?" Nell was getting nervous now.

"Do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing." A smile crept across Kensi's face. "Not at this particular moment anyway." _What's the saying? Oh yes – 'revenge is a dish best eaten cold'. And in this particular instance, it's going to be very cold indeed. Almost frozen, in fact. _

"You've got a plan though, haven't you?" _I wonder if I should tell Hetty that Kensi knows?_

"Oh yes, I've got a plan. And I've also got something to ask you." _I almost forgot, what with that little bombshell you dropped back there. _Kensi smiled ingratiatingly at her friend.

"I think I've said enough already. More than enough. I refuse to say anything more on the grounds that I might incriminate myself." If she'd learned anything from her unfortunate encounter, it was when to keep her mouth shut.

"All you have to say is 'yes'. Just one word," Kensi wheedled.

"Not till I hear the question." Nell was determined to hold her ground.

"Will you be my bridesmaid?"

"Will I? Oh, won't I?" It was all Nell could do not to start jumping up and down on the spot.

"That's a 'yes' then, is it?"

"Definitely." If there had been any lingering doubts in Nell's mind, they were completely dissipated now, blowing away on the soft breeze of confidence, floating as nebulously as dandelion spores in the wind, trembling for an instant and then disappearing. She belonged. Never again would she doubt that this was where she was meant to be. She truly belonged, and more than that, they belonged to her. All the disparate lives of the team had knitted together into a tightly woven fabric, comprised of many different hues and numerous textures, but which somehow managed to work together in a seamless harmony. Each component of the fabric was unique and distinctive, but the pattern they created together was beyond measure. Warp and weft fitted into one another, strengthening, stabilising and creating a new unity. And Kensi was wrong – the wedding was not just about her and Deeks – it was about the whole team. Because they were all emotionally involved. It was just that in this case, two of the threads were going to be tied together more tightly than ever.


	38. Chapter 38

_For KMW - hope you enjoy this installment._

* * *

><p>The rest of the day was routine, and if routine was a euphemism for boring, then Nell wasn't bothered. Routine was what she needed right now. There would be a time and a place for seeking out whoever had tried to frame her – Hetty had made that perfectly clear. And she could trust Hetty; she knew that without a shadow of a doubt. So, Nell went through her files and did routine checks and read all the emails that had stacked up in her absence and relished the normality of everything.<p>

Eric, on the other hand, was not so enamoured with routine. Boredom seeped into his soul and aroused the rebel in him, pushing up all the instincts that had made him such a great hacker, back in the day. Chief amongst his feelings were rebellion and a need to get things out in the open – the twin gods of any hacker. He wasn't about to see this swept under the carpet and couldn't understand why everyone was simply behaving as if nothing had happened. Someone had struck directly against the integrity of the team – his team. And Eric wasn't about to sit still and do nothing.

"Briefing in five," he yelled and was gratified to see the looks of relief on the team's faces as they looked up at him. _Seems they not exactly enamoured at catching up with all that paperwork. And I can't say I blame them. Time to liven things up a little._

"Do you have something to tell me, Mr Beale?" Hetty stalked into Ops with great dignity. "It would have been courteous of you to have informed me beforehand. I'm not accustomed to being bellowed at as if I were a cow that is late for milking."

"Sorry, Hetty." Eric did not sound or look the slightest bit sorry. On the contrary, he looked as if he was barely suppressing some bubbling excitement. "Live link to the Navy Yard coming up right now." Eric pushed the button and watched as the view screen sprung into life. "Why, Agent McGee: how nice to see you. Can I introduce you to Nell Jones – the woman you framed?"

Nell had seen file photos of Timothy McGee, but the man on the screen looked a lot thinner. He almost looked drawn and his whole posture suggested a man who was deeply discomfited. And he didn't look like an agent, of that she was certain – he looked more like a college professor.

"Mr Beale: this is outrageous. I will speak to you in private. Agent McGee – please accept my apologies. This is not the way we do things in OSP, notwithstanding Mr Beale's actions." Hetty kept her voice calm, but her foot tapped with impatience.

McGee cleared his throat nervously. "There's no need to apologise."

Nell thought that his voice was nice – softly spoken and with an immediate sincerity. Despite herself, she was beginning to feel sorry for the agent, who was clearly uncomfortable about the whole scenario. "I know you were only doing your job," she said. "That it wasn't personal."

"I'm glad to see someone has retained a bit of objectivity." Gibbs strolled into view. "Your troops getting a bit restless, Hetty?" _You going to do something about this, are you?_

"It's been a stressful time, Jethro. Operation Frankenstein is taking its toll on all of us." _And, as you very well know, mutiny in the ranks will not be tolerated._

"I might have some information that could help you." He raised an eyebrow. "We'll need to bring it over personally. I'm not trusting the integrity of any of the IT networks until this is all sorted out. Interested?"

"What's it going to cost me?" Hetty was not going to start buying a pig in a poke at this late stage.

"You'd be doing me favour. We've got a personal stake in winding all this up as well. I've just got one condition_." I'd really like to give that boy of yours a head slap as well, but I'm trusting you'll do that for me._

"And that would be?"

"McGee comes back in one piece. We got a deal?"

"Why not? There's no sense in working against one another." Hetty gave the cringing Eric another disdainful look. "We work best when we work together."

Gibbs smiled. "Can't disagree with that. Seems like some of my team might bear that in mind as well. Facts may be facts – but they can also be plain wrong." At his side, McGee looked as if he was probably blushing and wishing the floor would open up. "Catch you soon." The transmission ened abruptly.

"Mr Beale – can you give me any good reason why I should not treat you as rudely as you treated Agent McGee?"

"No. I overstepped the mark there. I'm sorry."

"You did more than that – you abused your position. It was unprofessional and it was unkind. And we'll continue this conversation in my office." She gestured towards the door imperiously and exited with great dignity. Eric made his exit with much less aplomb, while the others pretended to be very busy not watching him.

"Well, that was uncomfortable." Callen stepped forward, still in his dark suit. "You want to tell me what I missed? Apart from the return of the prodigal. Good to see you, by the way Nell. It wasn't the same without you."

"Eric tried to call McGee out. Bad move. Hetty's probably chewing him up into little pieces as we speak." Marty grimaced. "I don't envy him. She's probably sitting there, toying with that flick knife she pretends is a letter opener and watching him sweat bullets."

"But on the plus side, Gibbs and his team are coming out. He's says he's got some information about Operation Frankenstein."

"Good. I don't want us to lose any more people." Callen loosened his tie. "And can we please go back to normal now? Back to the way things were."

"You missed me, didn't you?" Sam's eyes were sparkling. "Admit it, G – you want me back. You missed me."

"Don't I get a say in this?" Kensi asked. "I liked working with you, Sam."

"Why don't I just leave and you two can draw straws?" Marty offered. "The winner gets Sam and the loser gets Deeks?"

"That works for me."

"If I lose, does that mean I get to move into your house as well?" Callen asked curiously. "In place of Kensi."

"Probably. But you also get Bobby and his flatulence problem."

"It's a big house, he can live in his own wing."

"I'm not feeling the love here. And after I got that bath shipped all the way over. Looks like I'll be bathing alone. Unless you want to join me, Callen?"

"I'll pass, thank you."

"I'd forgotten about the bath," Kensi mused. "Seems a pity not to at least test it out."

"Admit it – you missed me. You missed all that I bring to our partnership."

"I didn't miss the pouting."

The doors opened and Hetty walked in, followed by a very sheepish Eric. "Why are you all still here? Don't you all have homes to go to? And why are you pouting, Mr Deeks."

"I'm not. It's just the way my face is."

"And you used to be such a sweet little boy – such a lovely, sunny disposition. Except when you didn't get your own way and threw one of your tantrums."

"Is this 'gang up on Deeks' day or something? Anyone else want to join in?"

"I want to go home and see our new bathroom," Kensi said sweetly and dragged him out.

"She's forgetting one thing," Sam said. "Her mother's still visiting. That's going to dampen their ardour a bit. Still, maybe they can get on with some more wedding planning, now they've actually managed to set a date. Would you believe they want Crosby to be the ring bearer?"

"And Kensi's asked me to be a bridesmaid," Nell hugged herself with delight.

"Allison's going to be very happy to see Gibbs again." It hadn't escaped Callen's notice that they seemed to be very comfortable in each other's company. "Is it true she's asked him to give Kensi away?"

Sam nodded. "Oh yes. Of course, if they get together and she moves out east, that sorts out Deeks' problems with having her hanging around all the time. He's surprisingly devious, really."

"You can say that again." Hetty turned on her heel and marched out of Ops, trying not to show how hurt she was.

_You're only an aunt – and a great-aunt at that. And it's not as if you'd been in contact with Marty at all - until recently. You can't expect him to conjure up feelings for you out of thin air, no matter how much you love him. And there's no reason you should have been involved, no reason at all. But it would have been nice to know. Just to be told and to feel that I am a part of the family._

Things would seem better after a cup of tea. They always did. Tea had a remarkably soothing quality, and of course there was the whole ritual associated with preparing the perfect brew. Hetty busied herself with warming the pot and selecting exactly the right blend. Earl Grey seemed appropriate, she thought. It brought a certain dignity to the occasion, after all. It was only once she had added boiling water to the leaves, stirred once and replaced the lid of the tea pot, that Hetty sat down at her desk and saw the envelope lying there, addressed in familiar handwriting. It certainly hadn't been there when she had given Eric his well-deserved dressing down, followed by a reminder about the perils of misplaced loyalty. The boy had meant well, after all.

_I wonder what you have to say that you felt you couldn't tell me in person? I'm not sure I can deal with another disappointment today._ She hesitated for a moment and then picked up her letter opener and sliced the flap open.

_Dear Hetty_

_We've finally managed to set a date for the wedding, so go find your diary and mark it in red – six weeks on Saturday. You're my one link to my mother and it's important to me that you're there. I know we don't really talk about all the fact we're related, but I need to let you know how much it means to me – and how much you mean to me. Anyway, you have to be there, sitting in the front pew. I need you there. It wouldn't be the same without you._

_Your loving nephew_

_Marty_

_P.S. Kensi says to tell you that she's having Mom's dress remade. It's her 'something old'._

"You were such a sweet little boy," she whispered, remembering the child who had sat on her knee and flung his arms around her neck, and the terrified scrap of humanity who had clung to her so desperately when she'd finally got him back from the kidnappers. "And you've grow up into a fine young man. I couldn't be more proud of you if you were President." Perhaps it was time that she let him know just how precious he was to her? Everyone needed to feel that they belonged, after all, herself included. There were so many nights when Hetty lay awake and wondered what would have happened to the Brandel family if she had not visited them that summer, and persuaded Jack to work covertly for the US. Perhaps Maryanne and Chris would still be alive and Jack would not have threatened his child with a shotgun and then spent years in prison? It was greatly to their credit that neither father nor son seemed to bear her any ill-will, but Hetty blamed herself and always would.

* * *

><p>"Keep your eyes tight shut," Marty urged, as he led her upstairs, with Allison following behind them. "No peeking."<p>

"You're like a little kid, Marty. It's only a bath, after all. And I've already seen it, when it was sitting downstairs."

"It's a bit more than that," he confessed. "I mean, the men were already here – so it seemed silly not to get them to do one or two other things."

"Like what, exactly? I hope you've not had the shower taken out. I love that shower!" More particularly, Kensi loved the opportunities that shower afforded them. It was positively family sized, although the things they got up to in it were definitely not for family viewing.

"Take a look." Doubt assailed him: it had seemed like such a great idea at the time to have the whole room remodelled as a surprise. But maybe he should have asked her? What if Kensi hated it?

"Oh wow." Kensi walked forward as if in a dream. "Twin sinks." She turned around slowly and saw her reflection projected into infinity in the mirrors on opposite walls. The shower was untouched, but the walls were now tiled in a pale honey-hued marble throughout and the bath stood in gleaming majesty in the centre of the room, looking out onto the garden. "This is beyond beautiful."

"It's like something out of a magazine," Allison breathed. "You have really excellent taste." It seemed unlikely, looking at the slightly dishevelled exterior of the man, but clearly she needed to look a little closer, Allison thought. And he certainly seemed to adore Kensi.

"Of course he's got good taste, Mom – he chose me, after all."

"I seem to remember you seduced me. When I was still recovering and powerless to resist your charms."

"The Blyes are like that," Allison said dryly. "They see what they want and then they go after it, all guns blazing. It's like lying down in front a steamroller – you just have to accept the inevitable."

"Mom! You're supposed to be on my side."

"I think you can stand up for yourself quite well without my help, darling."

"Whereas I need all the help I can get, I suppose?"

"You said it." Kensi wrapped her arms around him. "But I guess I'll keep you anyway."

"Because no-one else will have me?"

"No – because I love you."

* * *

><p>Details of the Brandels can be found throughout the series, most particularly in <strong>Personal Questions<strong>. You can read more about Hetty's involvement in their lives and why Marty was kidnapped as a child in **Comes a Time** and **The Chain**


	39. Chapter 39

Kensi had not quite appreciated just how much work went into planning a wedding. Foolishly, she'd thought you booked a church, chose a dress and a caterer and that was pretty much it. That was her first mistake. Her second mistake was not realising that once you started the process, all number of people felt they had a right to try to interfere and impose their will on you – from offering various of their unattractive offspring as bridal attendants (as if – she actually wanted wedding photographs she could put out on display) to actually telling them what food should be dserve at the meal. Once you announced your wedding, it seemed that the whole world felt they had an automatic right to tell you what to do.

"I'm beginning to wish we'd just got married in one of those drive through chapels in Vegas."

"We don't have to do this, you know – we could just get married quietly – your Mom, my Dad, Hetty, Caroline and Joe. And then just have a big party afterwards and tell everyone?" It was beginning to dawn on Marty just what a big deal a wedding was. And the more he thought about it, the less he liked it.

"If only we could. But look." Kensi brandished a sheaf of envelopes. "These are all acceptances to the invitations we sent out. It's too late now."

"Not to mention the fact your Uncle Bert has plotted out a route that means they're never more than twenty miles away from a restroom at any point. They're probably going to have go pick up your Grandma any minute now if they want to get here on time." A thought struck him. "We'd better make sure she's seated near the door in the Church – in case of any bladder emergencies."

"I'll make sure Sam and Callen know." The two men had agreed to be ushers. _Surely even my notoriously cantankerous grandma won't try to argue with Sam? And if she does, Callen can turn on the charm. I hope. Exactly why did I think weddings were beautiful and dream-like? This is more like a nightmare. I just want to get the whole thing over and done with. This isn't about me and Marty any more. We're caught up in this whole mess and I can't see any way out._ Kensi added a note to her ever-growing list of things to do. "And I'm going to have to leave work early today – I've got a fitting for my dress."

"How many fittings does that make now?" Marty asked curiously. He'd never had more than three fittings for a suit, after all. _What are they doing? It's only a dress after all._

"Too many." _I've lost count. And each time that designer seems to stick pins in me deliberately. I just stand there like an idiot and she purses up her mouth and looks at me disapprovingly. And it doesn't look anything like the drawing she showed me. It's just a mess of raw seams and pins._

"Going to give me a clue?" She'd been incredibly tight-lipped about the whole affair, other than telling him she was using the fabric from his mother's wedding dress. It had been kind of off-white shiny stuff, as far as Marty could recall. _I hope it's not one of those sticky-out ones. The ones that look like meringues._

"No way. The first time you see the dress is when I come walking down the aisle." _I'm just praying it will be finished by then and I don't leave this whole trail of pins behind me._

"Really? You want to do the whole 'not seeing each other on the morning of the wedding' thing? Really?"

"Really. It's kind of fun."

"It means we're sleeping in separate rooms. That's not fun in my book. Not fun at all. Quite the reverse."

"You'll survive. One night without sex isn't going to kill you."

"It might. It very well might. And then you'll be sorry, won't you?"

"No – I'll be a merry widow, dancing at a fabulous party. Dancing with Gibbs."

"If your Mom lets him out of her clutches. Does she know they're arriving today?"

"Oh yes." Kensi sighed. "She and Gibbs have been speaking a lot."

"That's handy." A plan started to form in Marty's mind. _I've got this great idea for a bachelor party._

"You're up to something. I can tell. You've got that look on your face – the one that means you're either horny or you've got a plan." _And I've got this really bad feeling. I'm not going to like this plan, am I?_

"Maybe it's both?"

"Then you're doomed to disappointment on at least one count, because if we don't get going soon, we're going to be late."

"Speak for yourself. I'm going straight to LAX to pick up Gibbs and his merry band. And their plane doesn't get in till eleven. I've got plenty of time." He picked up his coffee cup and took a long, satisfying swallow. "Enjoy your commute through rush hour traffic, honey."

Kensi picked up her purse. "Being smug really doesn't suit you, Marty Deeks."

* * *

><p>She arrived at the Mission to find Sam doing a remarkably fine impersonation of a headless chicken.<p>

"Dammit – I know my cars keys are here. I had them just a minute ago. Did you take my keys, G? they must be here somewhere. Where the hell are they?" His voice grew in volume and he was noticeably agitated, pushing the papers on his desk aside so that they tumbled to the floor.

"Urgent new mission? Nuclear emergency?" Kensi asked, narrowly avoiding being bowled over as Sam rushed past and started peering at the floor anxiously.

"You could say that. Denise just called to say she's in labour and the pains are coming hard and fast. Sam's not coping very well." Callen smirked. "And it seems that in his panic, he's completely forgotten that I picked him up this morning. In my car."

"You could have said that earlier. Look at him- he's completely in pieces." Kensi's heart went out to the man. "Put him out of his misery – right now."

"Crosby," Sam muttered. "What are we going to do about Crosby?" He looked at them helplessly. "Denise's sister was coming out next week. But the baby's decided to come early. And the school is on holiday this week. We can't just leave Crosby. And there's no way we're taking him to the hospital with us."

"Callen will drive you back home," Kensi said soothingly. "And then you can take Denise to the hospital, while he brings Crosby back here. And don't worry - he can stay with Callen and Nico tonight. It'll be nice for them to see what living with a child is like." _That'll teach you not to be mean to your partner, Callen. Especially when he's so concerned. Poor Sam. He doesn't normally let people see how vulnerable he is._

"How come you're not offering to take him?" Callen asked suspiciously.

"Because she lives with Deeks – which is pretty much like living with a child. And besides, you two need all the practice you can get." Sam was beginning to calm down a bit.

"Talking of Deeks – did you drop him off at day-care or something?" Callen grabbed his own car keys in one hand and took hold of Sam by the elbow with the other.

"He's picking up Gibbs and his team at the airport. They should be here around lunchtime. Sam – give Denise my love and keep us informed, okay?"

"Will do." Sam sounded curiously detached and he staggered slightly as Callen guided him outside. All the months of planning and preparing still couldn't stop that gut-clenching feeling of dread. There were so many things that could go wrong. He was very glad of Callen's presence. The man was so much part of his life…

"Were you as bad as this first time around?" Callen asked conversationally as they drove towards Sam's house.

"Worse." Sam intertwined his fingers and then cracked his knuckles. "No, scrub that. I didn't know what was going to happen last time. This time I do." He gulped convulsively. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Not in my car you're not." Callen took a look at his partner. "You want I should pull over?" _You've gone the most peculiar colour. Don't even think about throwing up over the upholstery._

Sam took several deep breaths, conscious that his resting pulse rate was through the roof. He didn't even want to think about what his blood pressure might be doing. "I'll be fine. I can do this."

"Of course you can." _I won't be like this when Nico's about to give birth. Of course I won't. I'll be sitting in a corner, gibbering quietly to myself. How come none of these classes we've been going to ever mention giving drugs to the fathers? Surely we should get valium at the very least?_

Crosby rushed out to greet them as the car pulled up, narrowly escaping death under the wheels. "We're going to have a baby – did you know that?"

Sam patted him absently on the head and then ran into the house at top speed.

"Your dad mentioned it once or twice. How about you come to NCIS with me this afternoon?"

"Can we go in your car?" Crosby eyed the Aston Martin with awe. "It's really cool. Much cooler than my dad's car."

"I know, but don't tell him that." Callen watched as Sam and Denise came out of the house. It was noticeable that Denise was much calmer than her husband.

"I don't know how to thank you for this. For looking after Crosby, I mean. And bringing over nervous Nellie here." She looked at Sam and shook her head lovingly. "Anyone would think he was the one about to have the baby. I've got to do all the hard work – he only has to stand and watch."

"How long will you be?" Crosby asked. "Because I need to be back to watch my shows. It's important." He crossed his arms and stared at his father implacably.

"We could be a while, buddy. But you can stay over at Callen's and he'll watch your shows with you, won't you, G? There was a decided twinkle in Sam's eye as he said this. "I'm sure he'll love _Lego Factory Heroes_. And you can tell him all about it beforehand. He'll like that." Ah, revenge was sweet. Callen had no idea just how long Crosby could prattle on about that show, and his favourite character, Furno.

"I'd rather stay with Marty," Crosby said, with all the delightful insouciance only an eight year old can muster. "He's got a pool." He gave Callen a beady look. "You don't have a pool, do you?"

"No, but we've got a piano," Callen found himself saying weakly.

"Can we go over and see Marty?" Clearly, Crosby was unimpressed by this.

_Well, why shouldn't Deeks have the joy of Crosby's company? They're around the same mental age, after all. He'll probably think this Lego show was great_. "Sure, why not?" _Let Deeks share the joy._ "What do you hope Mommy will have?" he asked, more to make conversation than any real desire to actually know. It was really hard talking to someone who only came up to your waist.

"A puppy," Crosby said firmly.

"We've through this before, son." Sam sounded weary. "We're having a baby, not a puppy. End of conversation."

"Callen asked me what I _hoped_ she would have – and I answered truthfully. You're always telling me how important it is to be truthful. I know she's going to have a baby, but I'd much rather she had a puppy." Crosby turned to Callen. "Have you got a dog?"

"No, but we're going to have a baby too."

"Never mind. Maybe you can get a puppy as well." Crosby walked over to the car and stroked it lovingly. "Marty's got a dog," he said accusingly. "I'd rather have a dog than a baby and I bet Marty agrees with me."

"You want to have a word with him about that?" Sam suggested distractedly, as he helped Denise into his car. "He's kind of got a thing about Deeks, but even so, it might not be the most tactful thing for him to mention to them."

"Sure. Why not? I can do that. Anything else you like me to do while I'm at it? Maybe solve the mystery of the Man in the Iron Mask?" _How come your kid prefers Deeks to me, Sam? What have you been saying to him I'm your partner – he should like me best._

"Since when was France in our jurisdiction, G? You guys have fun now. And be good, Crosby – okay."

"I'm always good," Crosby said indignantly and then ran to give Denise a hug. "If it has to be a baby rather a puppy – can it be a boy, please?"

"It doesn't work like that," his father said. "We take what we're given. You know that."

"You give me peas and I don't like them. What if I don't like the baby?"

"I'll get back to you on that one, son."

Crosby watched as they drove off. "They never bothered to ask me if I wanted a baby," he said sadly. "They just went and did it. I get a row when I do things without asking – like that time I went over to Marty's."

"Well, that was kind of dangerous."

"I knew Marty would look after me. And he did. Nothing bad happened."

"Listen, you were lucky there. Something very bad nearly happened." Callen found that he was kneeling down and holding the child firmly by the shoulders. Crosby's eyes were wide and round and Callen stared into them intently. "Remember how frightened you were?" _I don't think I've ever been so scared in my whole life. _

"I peed my pants." Crosby hung his head and bit his lip. "You're mad at me, aren't you? Marty wasn't mad at me. He was nice to me." _Why do I have to stay with you? I don't want to stay with you, 'cos you're old and mean and boring. I want to go stay with Marty._

"Marty was scared out of his wits. We all were. Your mom and dad tell you things to keep you safe. Which is why you have to listen to adults and do as you're told, okay?" _Jesus kid, you came within about an inch of dying that time. And nothing is going to happen to you on my watch, believe me on that. If I have to handcuff you to a chair to keep you safe, then that's what I'll do. Because your dad's trusted me to look after you and I'm going to do that, come hell or high water._

"I guess." It was said very reluctantly and Callen got the very definite impression he was not Crosby's favourite person. Great. He just hoped Denise managed to push this baby out in record time.

* * *

><p><em>Details of what happened to Crosby are in <em>_**Comes A Time.**_

_KMW – Gibbs' team were recalled home back in chapter 25. Poor things – they are going to get quite dizzy with all that flying to and fro! _

_Thus far, Hetty and Jack have managed to avoid any major spats – but weddings mean heightened emotions and even slushy plot bunny is getting a bit nervous about what may happen. He is also getting very excited about Sam and Denise's baby, although evil plot bunny thinks Crosby should definitely swap it for a puppy._


	40. Chapter 40

"Long time no see, buddy boy!" Tony DiNozzo clapped Marty on the shoulder, while Ziva went so far as to kiss him on the cheek. Gibbs just gave him a nod and a grunt, which was positively outgoing for the man, while McGee stood looking awkward and holding onto the handle of the luggage trolley for grim death. It was clear to see that the man wished he was anywhere but in the arrivals lounge at LAX.

"Sorry it's only me – Kensi's holding the fort back at the Mission, because we've got this whole childbirth emergency going on."

Timothy McGee had heard things had changed at NCIS: Los Angeles since his one and only visit a couple of years ago, but this seemed a little extreme. He took another look at Deeks briefly tried to imagine him fitting in at the Navy Yard in Washington, but quickly gave it up as a bad job. The man looked as if he'd just come back from the beach and could have been a poster boy for everything Leon Vance didn't want in an agent. Only Deeks wasn't an agent, and Leon Vance wasn't Director any more. And Tim was having serious doubts about him own competency. How could he have been so naive as to take that evidence against Nell Porter at face value? Hadn't he learned anything in all his years on the job? No wonder Tony had called him 'Probie' right up to the point when Ziva had joined.

"Which one – Denise or Nico?" Ziva asked, as they walked towards the entrance.

"Denise. She went into labour this morning Sam kind of lost it, according to Callen. And he's been left looking after Crosby." Marty barely managed to supress a smile at that particular scenario

"That I would love to see." DiNozzo had fond memories of Crosby running rings around the senior agent at his birthday party. "Things going well with you and Kensi?" His tone was light and nonchalant, but the look he gave was anything but light-hearted.

"We're doing great," Marty said firmly, cutting off that particular avenue with great deftness. It wasn't something he wanted to talk about with anyone except Kensi. They had to cope with the fact that both Sam and Callen were about to become fathers – they had to cope with it, because there was no choice. But it didn't make it any easier. No, he didn't want to talk about it. It was much easier just to change the subject entirely. "We're in the throes of wedding planning. Which is hell."

"You should ask McGee to do you a spreadsheet. He's good at things like that."

"I've not introduced myself, have I?" Marty flashed a charming smile and held out his hand. "Marty Deeks – LAPD liaison. Welcome to LA."

Tim forced a smile onto his face and shook hands. "I have been here before." It didn't quite come out the way he meant it and it definitely was a bad thing to say, judging by the way the shutters came down on the other man's face.

"Yeah, Eric said you'd met." Marty strode towards the car, not noticing the crumpled look on Tim's face at that. He'd spent half the flight in the toilet, dreading what sort of reception he was going to get. This guy seemed alright, although his dress sense was unorthodox. It would never have occurred to Tim to wear jeans to work – a pair of chinos was as dressed-down as he permitted himself to go at work. Not that he actually had any jeans that fitted him since he'd lost all that weight – they all slid straight off his hips and down to the ground.

"You still refusing to sign those papers?" Gibbs shook his head. "Do I need to take you out into the ocean and hold your head under the water until you come to your senses?"

"There is nothing wrong with being a liaison." Ziva stared at her boss accusingly.

"But it's better being an NCIS agent, isn't it?" Tony wheedled. "Otherwise you wouldn't have joined?"

"I had my reasons." She looked at Marty and smiled. "You'll know when the time is right."

"And the more we push, the harder you'll dig your heels in, won't you?" Tony had known right from the start that he and Deeks had a lot in common, apart from all the obvious stuff about absentee fathers and moneyed backgrounds. "You just don't want to do what people expect of you."

"Being contrary can be counterproductive." Gibbs reached out and put his hand on the back of Marty's neck. "Don't be stubborn just for the sake of it. Although Allison tells me things are a lot better these days." He stared into the kid's eyes.

"I'm not stubborn. I just know my own mind." Marty returned the look steadily. "But I have been thinking about things. Thinking about them seriously." Maybe he might talk to Gibbs about things? Gibbs would understand, and yet he was also detached enough to be able to remain objective.

As they drove towards the Mission, Tim wondered if he had slipped into a parallel universe – one where Gibbs actually behaved like a normal human being, complete with emotions. Mind you, if even half of what Tony and Ziva had told him was true, there was a fair chance that Deeks would end up as Gibbs' stepson-in-law. Which would probably make him the best connected man in NCIS, given his imminent marriage to Kensi and the fact that Hetty Lang was his aunt. He stared hard at the back of Deeks' head and tried to reconcile the almost horizontal laid-back image with the fact the man was also a qualified lawyer, as well as owning the controlling share of one of the leading technology companies. Some people had everything – brains, looks, money – and they made it seem so effortless, like they just glided through life. Tony had much the same veneer of easy confidence and Tim could understand how they got on so well together. And from all accounts, Kensi was cut from the same cloth as Ziva – beautiful, feisty and wholly reliable. Which just left him – Timothy McGee, the geek with a degree from MIT who managed to get everything disastrously wrong and who had aroused the ire of a former computer hacker, who was probably plotting his revenge right now. Everything about this trip was just depressing. Tim felt very far from home and totally outside his comfort zone.

"You got any good films lined up for us to watch tonight?" As ever, Tony was firmly concentrated on the important things – such as what they were going to be doing in their down-time.

"Could be. What do you say to a Wes Anderson double bill: _The Royal Tennenbaums_ and _The Life Aquatic_?" _You've got to love the way DiNozzo just assumes he's going to be staying with us in Malibu. Which he is, of course. Wouldn't have it any other way._

"I'd say that will do nicely – for starters. And then we could move on to some more themes – like boxing. _Raging Bull_ and _Rocky_."

"Sounds good. What about you, Ziva?"

"I like _Shrek_."

"She means she likes the movie, not that she fancies Shrek himself."

"What's wrong with Shrek? Just because he looks different – he is still worthy of love, is he not?"

Tim could feel himself getting hot under the collar. "Why are you all looking at me?"

"I'm not. I'm driving." Marty couldn't get a handle on McGee: he could get that he was maybe a bit apprehensive, but did he have to be so damned prickly and stand-offish? "Anyone else want to join us for the movie night?"

"I'm staying with Hetty."

Actually, that was a relief. Tony had dropped heavy hints that the only movie Gibbs had ever confessed to watching was _The Green Berets_, and that was so not going to feature in any DVD collection he owned, Marty thought. But maybe Gibbs could be persuaded to give _The Great Escape_ a go? You simply couldn't get any cooler than Steve McQueen. "How about you, McGee? You want to join us tonight?"

"I'm booked into a hotel." This couldn't have been worse timing, because his new book was really starting to take shape, only of course there was no way Tim could have brought his typewriter with him. So he'd done the next best thing and invested in a pile of hard-back notebooks and a box of pencils. He'd do this the old-fashioned way.

"Okay. Whatever floats your boat." Marty decided to give this up as a bad job. Clearly McGee had issues. Hopefully, given some time and space he'd manage to work them out. But Mary Sunshine the guy most certainly was not.

"You given any thought to a bachelor party?" DiNozzo asked hopefully.

"Some. But you're not coming."

"As if. You want a party to remember, then I'm the man to organise it."

"If you can remember it, it wasn't any good. Believe me on that." Gibbs thought back over the years and allowed himself a wry grin. "Most of my bachelor parties were better than the marriages, though."

"I was wanting to talk to you about that."

"You want to talk to me about my marriages, Deeks? I don't think so. Don't want to put you off before you've even started to walk down the aisle. Allison would kill me for starters."

"No - about the bachelor party."

DiNozzo looked offended. "You want Gibbs to organise your party? Have you hit your head again, Deeks? Cos it sounds like you're suffering from delayed concussion."

"I want to go surfing at Pendleton again." _One last great ride over the waves – make it one to remember._ "You think you could swing that? Maybe next weekend?"

"Leave it with me." Gibbs looked across at Deeks. "You ready for all this?" _You sure you know what you're letting yourself in for, kid? Because your life is never going to be the same again. For better, for worse – everything will change._

"Definitely." _I've never been so ready for anything in my life. _

* * *

><p>"Eat your lunch," Callen said firmly.<p>

Crosby glared at him. "I don't like it."

"It's a cheese sandwich and milk. What's not to like?"

"Everything. I'm not eating it." Callen couldn't help but notice the way the child's bottom lip stuck out petulantly.

"How about a burger and fries?" Kensi suggested and the transformation was instant.

"Cool!" Crosby's previously sulky face was wreathed in smiles.

"You can't give the kid junk food, Kensi. What would Sam say?"

"Nothing – because he's not going to know. What did you have for lunch, Crosby?"

"A cheese sandwich and milk," Crosby said angelically, and tucked his hand into hers. As they went out, he gave Callen a cold, hard look.

_Okay. That's me told and no mistake. What if my kid's like that – giving me the cold shoulder? What if my kid doesn't like me?_ Callen sat down at his desk and wondered if he was ready for fatherhood. It was slowly beginning to dawn on him exactly what he had let himself in for, and the more he learnt, the more he felt like running away, screaming his head off. _How the hell does Sam do it – combining this job, with a wife and a child – and then having another one? He's either Superman or a complete moron. And he should have called by now. Why hasn't he called? Is everything alright? Please don't tell me something's gone wrong._

"they're on their way," Eric said mournfully and slumped himself down in Kensi's chair.

"Who – Sam?"

"No – Deeks is bringing Gibbs and his team in." He toyed idly with one of the pencils, twirling it between his fingers.

"And? What's the big deal?"

"McGee's with them. And he hates me." The pencil snapped in two with a loud crack. "Not that he's top of 'like list' at the moment. I wouldn't even accept a friend request from him on Facebook." Seeing Eric had 8742 friends, this was really saying something. "And Hetty says I've got to apologise to him – in front of everyone."

"Ritual humiliation?" Callen said sympathetically. Hetty was really mad, if she was insisting on that. Talk about an eye for an eye – she was making Eric do this publically, in the same way that he had called out McGee publically. There was a certain justice about it, but it certainly wasn't going to make for cordial working relationships.

"I wasn't put in this position because of my ability to make friends," Hetty's voice said, from somewhere behind them. "Although that is, of course, quite remarkable. I am in this position because I can take the long view, and see things from a strategic perspective. And because I'm not afraid to tell people when they are behaving like schoolboys arguing over who has the best conker and treating them accordingly."

Callen and Eric waited till her footsteps faded away.

"Conker?"

"Don't ask. It's easier that way. Just accept it as another Hetty-ism."


	41. Chapter 41

Callen looked sideways, just to make sure that Hetty was actually gone, and was not skulking around somewhere. "It won't be that bad. Just suck it up and move on."

"That's easy for you to say." Eric sighed. "Oh well, it won't be much longer. And then I can log off and go out and get blind drunk."

"With or without George?"

"With. He's the designated driver tonight."

"That's the great advantage of having a pregnant partner – she can't drink. Mind you, she can't get behind the wheel right now either." Callen's cell began to chirp and he grabbed it eagerly. "Oh man! We've got to put this up on the screen."

"Put what up?" Eric took the phone and started to smile as he flicked through the pictures. "Wait until Kensi gets back with Crosby. It'll give him a big kick."

"Callen's going to kick Crosby? That's no way to treat your partner's kid."

"Very funny, Deeks. You're going to give our visitors the wrong idea about me. And anyway, as of an hour ago, he's Sam's _older_ kid." Callen waved the cell phone tantalisingly.

"Really? That's so cool." Marty looked around. "And where is Crosby, exactly? You've not left him to Hetty's tender mercies, have you?" He had this flashback to Hetty teaching him to do parachute rolls in the garden of the Brandel summer house in the Hamptons. _Only I had to take it to extremes and I managed to break my collar bone by jumping off the garden wall and mistiming my landing. Mind you, I was only been four years old at the time. I remember Mom being pretty cool about it all, but she must have been resigned to the fact I was as accident-prone as they came, but Hetty didn't stop apologising for days and then she went out and bought me that puppy._ It was funny, the things that popped into your mind sometimes. Marty wondered if Hetty remembered that incident too and made a note to ask her about it some time. There was so much they hadn't talked about, he realised.

"He's out with Kensi – getting some lunch."

Eric suppressed a smile. "Because he wouldn't eat what Callen gave him." He looked around curiously. "Weren't you supposed to pick up Gibbs and co?"

"They went straight up to see Hetty in Ops." Marty sat down and looked at the photos again. "So baby Hannah arrived safe and well." _Sam and Denise look so happy. Like they could burst. I'd love to know what that feels like – to be that happy. To be able to hold your baby and know everything is alright._

"Marty!" For someone who was still quite small, Crosby had a fine set of lungs on him and his cry was positively ear-splitting. He raced across to fling himself onto his idol's lap. "Kensi took me out and she let me have a cheeseburger and fries and a soda. And then we had ice-cream." Following behind, Kensi just shrugged her shoulders.

"Yeah – I could pretty much work that menu out from looking at your shirt. But listen, we've got something to show you." Marty gave the boy a hug and closed his eyes for a second, imagining briefly how it would feel to hold your own child.

Eric pointed towards the large screen and handed Crosby a remote. "How about you press the red button?"

"It's not going to explode or give me an electric shock is it?" Crosby asked suspiciously. Clearly his father had begun his training already.

"Would we do that?" Marty reached up and took hold of Kensi's hand, knowing what was coming.

"No, you wouldn't. But _he_ might." Crosby pointed the remote at Callen and scowled. The next moment his jaw dropped open as a picture of his parents filled the screen.

"Looks like you're a big brother, Crosby." Kensi's voice wavered only a little, but she held onto Marty's hand as if it was a lifeline_. I'm not going to cry. This is their baby, not ours. Only I can't help thinking about what might have been._

"Is that my baby?" Crosby slid off Marty's lap and trotted over to the screen, standing so close that his nose was practically touching the glass.

"That's your baby sister," Callen said. It had only taken one look to see that neither Kensi or Deeks was going to be capable of saying anything more. He didn't want to think about the contrast between the joyful looks on the faces of one couple and the complete devastation on the others'.

"A baby sister." He reached out a finger and tentatively traced it down the baby's face. "Can I go see her, please?"

"I'll take you to the hospital." Callen tactfully kept his attention focused on the child. "How about you change that shirt first?"

For once, Crosby obeyed without question and was still so entranced with the prospect of being a big brother that he didn't notice when Marty and Kensi left quietly.

Few people ever ventured into the Mission courtyard, mainly because there was nothing there of any particular interest. It had probably been charming at one point, but now it was merely a neglected mess of broken paving and weed-infested borders. But it was quiet and the one place where you were unlikely to be disturbed.

"It'll be alright. We'll be alright," Marty soothed, gently rubbing her back.

"I know." Kensi buried her head in his shoulder. "It's silly, but it just hit me so hard, seeing them with the baby."

He tightened his grip, wrapping his arms around her, trying to shield her from pain and knowing it was impossible. "Me too."

A shudder rippled through Kensi's body, followed by a deep, heart-wrenching sob that was dragged from somewhere far inside her, a cry that tore through her chest and soared out of her mouth with visceral force. "It's not fair."

"No. It isn't." Marty bowed his head so that no-one could see the tears that were streaming down his face.

There was no point in either of them trying to reassure the other that one day they too would be parents, for that was not the point. All they could comprehend was the pain and misery of missing what was not. Life was not fair. It never had been, and it was never going to be. There was no sense in railing against fate. But sometimes it was not possible to push down the pain any longer. They had been mourning the death of their baby in silence but now the grief had to be voiced in all its raw, primal emotion. So they stood in the overgrown, desolate but thankfully private courtyard and held on to one another and let their grief pull them closer together. The sun was bright and unforgiving, bouncing off the white-painted walls, but that didn't matter, because they both had their eyes shut anyway.

"It will get better, won't it?" Kensi pleaded.

"It will get better. I promise you." Marty started to brush away her tears with his thumbs, but his own vision was so hazy that he stopped and just kissed her instead, kissed her so deeply and with such passion that Kensi had to cling onto his shoulders. They were in this together, and while they would never get over this, they might just get through it, battered and bruised, but more or less intact - because they had each other.

* * *

><p>"Ah – Mr Beale. I've been looking for you."<p>

"I've been right here, Hetty." Eric gave her a smile that disappeared as he saw his nemesis, Tim McGee, standing at her side. At least there was no sign of Gibbs or the others. Maybe there was a God after all?

"Where is the rest of the team?" The way Hetty looked around suggested that she thought they might have all been playing an impromptu game of hide and seek.

Eric filled her in on recent events and gestured to the screen. "Sam's new daughter. Not looking too squished." She was actually an improvement on the last baby that had been produced for his inspection. That one had been a dead ringer for Winston Churchill.

Hetty moved in for a closer inspection. "A fine looking child. And with her father's lack of hair. I only hope that changes, for her sake."

Tim's ears were still ringing from the scathing resume Hetty had treated him to as she discussed his recent performance, so he couldn't exactly be sure, but that sounded suspiciously like a joke. Only Hetty didn't do jokes, did she? She seemed to specialise in scaring people out of their wits.

"I owe you an apology, Agent McGee," Eric said formally, reasoning that the sooner he got this over and done with, the sooner he was out of here, removed from the temptation of smacking McGee in the mouth. And there was the added advantage that nobody else was around to hear him grovel. Not being a fighting man, Eric wasn't usually tempted to physical violence, but he was willing to make an exception in McGee's case. And from the way the agent looked, it wouldn't take much to knock him down. Had nobody noticed how gaunt he looked? The man was positively haggard and his skin seemed unnaturally pale.

"Thank you." Tim gripped onto the bannister and hoped he could get out of here as soon as possible. He needed to exorcise the memories of today, and writing was the best therapy he could think of. And then tomorrow they would start work in earnest to try to finally shut down Operation Frankenstein once and for all.

"Agent McGee is staying at an hotel in Santa Monica. Perhaps you could give him a ride, Mr Beale?"

_Perhaps pigs might whistle 'It's Raining Men', if only they had different mouths, Hetty? _"Sure, Why not." Eric shot McGee a speculative look and ambled slowly to the exit. Tim followed him with all the enthusiasm of a man going to the gallows.


	42. Chapter 42

They sat in an uneasy silence as Eric navigated his way through the traffic. Eventually, he could stand it no longer. "You like Washington then?" he asked, aware of how lame that sounded.

"It's home now. I've been at the Navy Yard for eight years." _Listen: you don't like me, and I'm pretty sure I don't like you. So let's just leave it at that._

_This is like drawing teeth. Can't the man see I'm only trying to make polite conversation? _"Managed to get yourself any new technical equipment since your last visit?" Eric remembered McGee's jaw almost dropping open when he'd seen all the various pieces of technology the Los Angeles branch enjoyed.

"Not so you'd notice. My boss isn't exactly a fan of anything manufactured after about 1985." _And I'm almost certain Abby manages to commandeer 90% of the budget anyway. The remaining 10% goes on replacement cell phones for Gibbs. His last for about two weeks on average. It's funny how Gibbs doesn't seem to have a problem buying the lastest piece of lab equipment for Abby. Funny – but not entirely unexpected._

"He's more old-school Pac Man?"

"More old-school card school, I'd say. We manage though. Even if we don't have all the bells and whistles and the fancy tech supplies." _I'm not jealous. Not much._

"Can't make it easy for you." Eric managed to inject a note of sympathy into his voice. When he'd first been recruited, working with the best gear available had been one of the major selling points of the job.

"Like I said: we manage." McGee looked stonily at the road ahead, wondering when the interrogation would end. That rang a chord: if this was an interrogation, then he had skills, he could turn this to his own advantage. "You were a hacker, weren't you?"

"I still am, a lot of the time. Only they like to refer to officially-sanctioned hacking as 'making enquiries germane to or in the course of assisting an investigation'. You've got to love semantics, don't you?" Eric grinned happily to himself.

"Is it true you brought down the Internet? The whole Internet?" Tim had always been sure that was just one of the many myths that had sprung up about the rather unorthodox LA team. Like the fact Hetty had once been a designer of some renown or the laughable idea that Deeks was a lawyer. Only both of those rumours had turned out to be true. _Where do they get these people from?_

"Uh huh. That was sweet." _That was my best day at work – ever. Releasing Paris Hilton's sex tape onto the internet was nothing compared with that._

"I'm impressed." And the funny thing was, Tim actually was. He still felt a frisson of guilt every time he was asked to access a system without the correct authorisation. "You get a kick out of doing working for NCIS, don't you?"

"Well, yeah. Of course I do." _I'm doing the thing I love and I get paid for it. What's not to love? _"Don't you?"

"Not really. Not anymore." Tim looked out of the window at the clear blue sky and wished he was back in Washington where the leaves on the trees were just starting to change colour and drop down onto the sidewalks and there would be a crisp tang in the air in the mornings; where his typewriter sat forlorn in his apartment, while the thoughts and ideas for his latest story bubbled in a frustrated turmoil inside his head. There had been too many deaths: Kate, Jenny, Cassidy, Mike Franks, Agent Levin, and even Cade. Ziva had been captured and still wouldn't talk about what had happened to her. Even Tony nearly died, only of course he had to be different and contract y pestis, aka the plague. And Gibbs had survived that explosion by the skin of his teeth. But it was a long list, much too long for comfort. Tim had calculated his odds of surviving the next five years without sustaining serious injury and the results did not make for bedtime reading – not unless you were a die-hard fan of horror stories. How much longer would it be before it was his turn?

"Do you want to talk about it?" Eric offered.

"No. Not really. But thanks for offering." Tim was beginning to have second thoughts about calling the unscrupulous hacker in his latest novel 'Ricky Peel'. "But I would like to talk to you about something else. Those entries made using Nell's logon."

"I'm listening." The hotel was right ahead of them and there was a coffee shop attached. "How about we go get ourselves a coffee?" It was as near to neutral territory as they were likely to get. And although Eric thought it was highly unlikely that they would ever become friends, perhaps they could manage to work together. After all, McGee had an awesome reputation, and Nell was worth it.

* * *

><p>"Go home," Hetty said. "No arguments – just go home. There's nothing that won't wait until tomorrow. And I've recommended a rather nice restaurant to Agents DiNozzo and David, with a beautiful view of the ocean. I wouldn't expect them back in Malibu before 10 o'clock at the earliest."<p>

"Thanks." Marty kept a protective arm around Kensi. She felt smaller than usual; smaller and much more vulnerable.

"So go." Hetty flapped her arms for emphasis. "And remember: this too will pass." That phrase had kept her going some very dark times. Sometimes it was only the passage of time that helped to heal the heartache.

* * *

><p>"Do you mind if we take a detour?" Marty asked. "There's something I need to do."<p>

"That's fine." Kensi leaned her head wearily against the side window and watched the world slip past.

"I'll need to stop at the florists just ahead."

"I don't need flowers." There was a dull thumping behind her temples that reminded her of just how much she had cried that afternoon. She wasn't entirely sure she wasn't going to start crying all over again.

"They're not for you, sweetheart. I'll only be a minute." True to his word, Marty returned almost immediately, with his arms full of yellow roses.

"Okay, I'm officially interested. Where are we going?" Despite herself, Kensi's curiosity was aroused.

"To visit my Mom." He gave her an anxious look. "It's been a while since I've been, but I kind of need to do this today. I can drop you off at home first, if you'd rather not come?"

"Oh no, I want to come. I think that would be… "She couldn't find the right words. "I think it would be a good thing to do – for both of us."

Among the rows of often ostentatious memorials, Maryanne Brandel's was stark in its simplicity – a plain white headstone, engraved with a cross, her name and the dates of her birth and death, followed by the legend _'Beloved Mother.'_ Standing at the foot of the plot, Marty bowed his head, crossed himself and as Kensi watched, his lips moved soundlessly. She waited until he fininshed and then moved forward and placed her hand lightly on the headstone, feeling the cool smoothness of the stone.

"Hi Maryanne. It's nice to meet you. My name's I'm going to be your daughter-in-law and I'm going to look after your son for you, because I love him very much. So don't worry about him, because he's going to be just fine."

"I brought you roses, Mom – yellow roses. They were always your favourite, weren't they?" Marty knelt down on the short green grass that looked like plush velvet, and looked at a bunch of lilies of the valley tucked close beside the stone. There was a card attached to the flowers, and the writing looked very familiar. _'To Maryanne, who lives on.'_ There was no signature, but it was definitely Hetty's writing. "What do you reckon she means by that?"

"Maybe she's talking about you?" Kensi suggested.

Marty placed the yellow roses down on the grass before sitting back on his heels and looking up at her in astonishment. "You think so?"

"Could be. She is very fond of you." _I know so. She adores you._

"Really?" As far as Marty was concerned, Hetty seemed to regard him with a mixture of resignation and bewilderment. This was kind of hard to comprehend, especially as he'd always thought he took after his father.

"Definitely. She's a complete softie at heart. All those times you've landed in the hospital, she's been almost frantic with worry, even though she tries to hide it."

"While you've been calmness personified, I suppose?" Marty stood up and brushed the grass of the knees of his jeans.

Kensi looped her arm around his waist. "Of course. Someone has to hold the team together."

"How about we go home now – maybe have an early night?" It had been one hell of a day and if there were dark circles under Kensi's eyes, then Marty was pretty sure his own weren't much better. _Let's just hold each other – hold each other together._

"That sounds good." They walked back onto the path and Marty turned around to take one last look at his mother's grave.

"I used to hate coming here – it just reminded me of everything that I'd lost. But it's different now." Marty couldn't stop thinking about Hetty coming here – by herself. Next time, they should come together. He thought that his mother would like that. "Bye, Mom," he said quietly. "I won't leave it so long next time."

Kensi let her hand slip down inside the back pocket of his jeans and squeezed gently. "Come on, let's go home."

They walked away, arms around one another, behind them a bunch of yellow roses with a card that read simply _'Miss you, Mom. All my love, Mikey'_.

* * *

><p>"Mommy!" Crosby cried jubilantly and scrambled up onto the bed. "Look what Callen bought me." He proudly displayed the t-shirt that proclaimed <em>'I'm a big brother'<em>.

"Nice gesture." Sam nodded his thanks.

"It was pretty much necessity. He threw half his lunch down the other one." Callen never felt particularly comfortable when people thanked him. "Congratulations, man." He extended a hand, but Sam pulled him into a bear hug, and clapped him several times on the back for emphasis.

"And he bought me a car – just like the one he drives. It's much cooler than your car, Daddy. Why?"

"Because Callen doesn't have an eight-year old who leaves half-eaten packets of chips on the floor. That's why he gets the cool car," his mother informed him. "So maybe if you start to be a bit tidier, then Hetty might give your Daddy a cool car too?" Above her son's head, Denise gave a broad wink. "Thank you for looking after him, Callen."

"No problem." He looked at the plexi-glass bassinet in the corner of the room. "Aren't you going to show us the newest addition to the Hannah clan?"

Sam reached in a gently picked up the baby, swaddled in a blanket and with a pale pink knitted cap on her head. "Hey there, Callie. It's time to meet your big brother – and your uncle G."

"Callie?" There was a large lump in his throat. "You're calling her Callie?"

"Well, we weren't about to call her 'G', were we? How stupid would that look on her birth certificate?"

"Absolutely ridiculous. Not to mention her passport and driving licence." Callen held his arms out and let Sam ease the baby into them. "Hey there, Callie." She opened her eyes and squinted up at him, before wrinkling her tiny nose and yawning. "Welcome to the world, baby girl." An urge of protectiveness swept through Callen's body as he adjusted the tiny body and gazed down at her face. If this was what it felt like holding Sam's daughter – what would he feel like when his own baby arrived.

"Amazing," Sam whispered, seeming to read his mind. "It feels absolutely amazing. And it'll scare the crap out of you."


	43. Chapter 43

Back at Malibu, they sat for a while looking out over the garden, watching as the bright sun gradually started to soften and the sky took on the familiar hues of dusk.

"We're nearly there." Kensi reached out and took hold of his hand. "Just a couple of weeks and we'll be married."

"And then it all starts. Married life." Marty turned to look at her." You're sure about the honeymoon – that's what you want? Because we could change it – go somewhere else."

"No, I'm certain. It's not SeaWorld, but I think I'll cope. And I've been thinking that I'd like to something in the garden. I want to do something in memory of our baby. I was thinking about digging a new bed, and putting in white roses and white lavender." Caroline had taken her for a tour one day, pointing out all the planting schemes, and showing her the trees that Jack Brandel had planted when each of his sons had been born. Kensi had never been particularly interested in horticulture before, but the idea had stayed in her mind. And now she wondered how jack would feel when he came back to California and saw that the slender sapling he'd planted had now become a tall tree. When the day came that they had a baby, she'd like to think that Marty would carry on the tradition.

"You have all the best ideas." Tomorrow they would go and see Sam's new baby and they would smile and share the joy of the newly-expanded family. But tonight was touched with sweet melancholy.

"And I've just had another one. How about a moonlight swim?"

"The sun's only just starting to set," Marty protested.

"Mr Picky. Or should that be Detective Picky?"

"So I'm a skilled investigator?" He was kissing her neck now and one hand was cupping her breast in a way that made Kensi lean forward into the touch.

"Oh, you're skilled alright. I'll give you that." She surrendered herself to his kiss, entwining her hands around his neck and then, afterwards gazing into his eyes. "I just wanted to make sure we weren't interrupted. Tony and Ziva might come home early and it could get a bit embarrassing."

"Planning on going skinny dipping, were you?" The very thought made his lips twitch into a smile.

"Why not? But only if you come along too?"

"Have I told you how much I love the way your mind works?"

"Not recently. How about you tell me right now?"

"I could show you too?"

Kensi put one finger on his lips. "How about you hold that thought till we're in the pool?" She took one look at the expression that followed this and burst out laughing. "Don't even bother saying it."

"Oh come on. Don't deny me the pleasure – if I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"

"You bet. Basically any excuse."

The water felt like silk on her naked body. Kensi glided through the water serenely and then flipped over onto her back and stared up at the stars. "We should do this more often."

"You won't hear any objections from me." Marty dove into the water and surfaced beside her, shaking the water out of his hair.

"I meant swimming." Kensi let her feet sink down and then wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. "It's good exercise."

Marty stared into her eyes and saw how the damp had pulled her eyelashes into starry points. "I can think of other forms of exercise." His hands cupped her ass and then lifted her up. And as his mouth sought hers urgently, Kensi wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and then gave a sigh of contentment.

* * *

><p>"In plain English, if you please, Mr Beale. While you and Agent McGee have the considerable benefit of familiarity with these terms and processes, not all of us are so blessed." <em>And I'd rather poke my eyes out with hot needles than try to translate that. Whatever happened to the concept of speaking the Queen's English? I can't imagine Her Majesty is familiar with those terms. At least, I hope not. I'm sure she has better things to do with her time – and so do I.<em>

"Sorry, Hetty. Well, it was Tim's idea in the first place." Eric was being very careful to give credit where credit was due. Over coffee, McGee had begun to thaw a little and eventually he'd unbent enough to actually join Eric and George for a meal. From the way he tackled his steak it looked like the first decent meal the man had eaten in weeks. "He realised that we'd been concentrating on Nell's logon – but that we'd missed the vital point."

"I thought we'd been over this already?" Callen objected. "Nell couldn't have done it. End of story. We know that – she was caught on the security camera, right here in Ops."

"Exactly. It wasn't Nell – so it was someone else. The question is – who?" Eric loved nothing more than a slow-reveal.

"Our NCIS accounts are set up so that we can have multiple logons," McGee explained, and then caught sight of the familiar look of incomprehension on Gibbs' face. "So you can logon to a PC in one part of the building, and then go to another and logon there too. Multiple logons let you use many PCs. Each one is protected with your normal security."

"But Nell didn't logon to another PC- -did she?"

"Of course I didn't!" Nell protested. "I have my laptop and I take it with me."

"Even Nell would have found it hard to log on in LA and then again in San Diego - only twenty minutes apart." Eric had picked up McGee first thing that morning and they'd gone over all the access logs once again.

"Someone in San Diego used Nell's password?" Somehow, that didn't entirely surprise Callen. Whenever he heard that city name, his heart sank. Bad things always seemed to happen to him in San Diego. The last time he'd been there, he'd narrowly escaped being blown up when the van the team was using had been wired up to explode. Of course, he'd met Nico there, so maybe the jinx was starting to lift at last?

Tim and Eric nodded in unison.

"Aren't they cute? Like a pair of bobbleheads," DiNozzo said affectionately. "You can get them custom-made, you know." It was clear that he was already planning to place a special order.

"I know what I'm going to do if you don't shut up," Gibbs said. "My hand's starting to itch."

"Think how cool it would be to have a McBobblehead. You can't start your Christmas shopping too early, Boss."

"Unless you are Jewish," Ziva reminded him. "And I don't think I would want a bobble-head McGee sitting on my desk." She saw the hurt look that crept across Tim's face and hastily added, "Not when I have the real thing."

Nell was still trying to work things through. "But how could somebody hack my password? It's linked in with my VPN token. How could they possibly have access to that? I keep it with me all the time and it generates random numbers that are directly linked into my system profile. My password is useless without that. And the numbers change every two minutes. There isn't a hacker alive who could manage to do that because you only get three chances and then the system boots you out and freezes the account."

"So maybe they didn't need to even bother trying?" McGee suggested. "How about they just managed to override the whole system protocols?" He watched with considerable satisfaction as the two teams tried to puzzle that one out.

"Could you do that?" DiNozzo asked.

"No. And before you bother asking, neither could Eric. Not without setting off a dozen different alerts, none of which were triggered. So whoever did it is either very, very good, or they're using some sort of technology we don't know about. Yet."

"You couldn't do," Marty said slowly and then pointed to Eric. "And he couldn't do it. So how can those guys do it?"

A grin crept across DiNozzo's face as he recognised the quote. "So how can those guys do it? Butch Cassidy and…." He caught sight of the expression of utter disgust on Gibbs' face. "And I think I'll just shut up now."

"You just keep right on thinking, Butch. That's what you're good at." It wasn't often Gibbs was able to top one of Tony's film quotes, but it had never seen like a more fitting occasion. "And as for you, Sundance…"

"I'll just go get ready for a nice trip to San Diego, shall I?" Marty shot Callen a meaningful look.

"Don't even bother mentioning SeaWorld. Because I've got it on good authority that you've already booked the honeymoon."

"Who goes to SeaWorld on their honeymoon?" McGee asked. Curiously.

"Callen promised. On account of the fact he dropped Deeks. On his head," DiNozzo explained helpfully.

"Fair enough. So that's Deeks' excuse. What's yours, Tony?" Despite his forebodings, McGee was beginning to enjoy himself.

* * *

><p><em>See <strong>The Chain<strong> to find out why Callen dropped Deeks and subsequently offered to pay for the honeymoon. The reason for Callen's legendary dislike of San Diego is detailed in **It's Just My Heart Talking.**_


	44. Chapter 44

"A bachelor party?" McGee looked doubtful. "I'm not sure that's my scene."

DiNozzo looked sorrowful. "McGeek – it's a bachelor party. What's not to like? We're talking beer, male bonding – and a beach. We're in California – how can you not want to go to the beach?"

"I'm not a beach sort of guy, Tony. Besides, I don't really know Deeks."

"He asked me to invite you." DiNozzo cocked an eyebrow. "Come on – you know you want to. And you don't actually have to go surfing – not unless you really want to."

"I don't. I definitely don't want to."

"So what's holding you back?" Sometimes he felt like shaking some sense into the man. Everyone needed to unwind – and right now, Tim really need to kick his shoes off and feel the sand underneath his toes.

"Are you organising it?"

"You're thinking 'naked dancing girls', aren't you? But I'm a reformed character these days." DiNozzo assumed a saintly expression that didn't fool his team mate for an instant and then winced as a familiar hand made contact with the back of his skull.

"Which is why he's not organising it. I've got special permission for this shindig and there will be no female company. Understood?"

"Yes, boss." So there would be no girls? Well, at least there would be lots of beer. He owed Deeks that much. But what was the guy thinking of, letting Gibbs organise his bachelor party? They could have managed to get onto that beach at Pendleton without his contacts, surely? After all, they were trained agents and the Marine Corps was… well, it was the Corps. Not too dusty, and would have given them a run for their money, but even so.

"Well, Tim – are you coming?" Gibbs had been keeping a careful eye on his agent. Something was bugging McGee, was bugging him big time, and that gave Gibbs a bad feeling. He'd learned a long time ago to listen to his gut. A bit of R&R might just do the trick.

"Sure, why not?" It struck Tim that maybe Tony had a point. It did seem a waste of time to come all the way out to California and not go to the beach. Although he was slightly disappointed the bachelor party was going to be so low key. He'd been hoping for something altogether more down and dirty, something that his latest character 'Morty', a billionaire playboy who dabbled in law enforcement as a hobby, would be likely to indulge in. Something like barely-clad lovelies drinking champagne and cavorting in fountains, while the men played roulette… Or maybe that was too like James Bond?

"The boys are back in town and ready to party!" Tony crowded delightedly.

Not to be outdone, Kensi was organising her bachelorette party for the same weekend. With the house free of all male company, it seemed an ideal opportunity to host a girls' spa weekend. She was careful to keep this secret from both Marty and Tony, knowing they would somehow manage to sneak back at some point. A little pampering seemed overdue, long overdue.

* * *

><p>"Oh my. It's hardly changed." Jack Brandel dropped his bag and looked around the hallway of the house he had left nearly twenty years ago. It was almost as if time had stood still: there was the same table, with an arrangement of flowers on it, a familiar jumble of shoes was at the side of the door and there was even Maryanne's portrait, smiling serenely down at him. But everything else had changed: his younger son was now a grown man, and one whom he hardly knew. All that time, all that lost time that they could never hope to make up weighed heavily upon him. Jack looked to his right and saw the door to the library was open and he remembered that night, that fateful night, when he'd lost everything… If he closed his eyes, Jack could still see his son, sitting on the floor and clutching that revolver in both hands, his eyes wide and round with fear and he could hear the screams of his wife. He re-lived that night often in his nightmares, but no dream could ever compare to the horror of waking up to the stark reality of his actions. Jack had lived with the consequences for twenty years and he was still no closer to reconciling himself to what he had done, all the hurt he had caused.<p>

"I'm sorry, Dad. This must be hard for you." The look on his father's face chilled Marty to the bone. He should have realised how this would affect him and booked a hotel. Only that had seemed so cold and impersonal and he really wanted to spend some time trying to get to know his father again.

Jack whirled around and placed his hands on Marty's shoulders. "Hard for me? Son, you're the one who's had to live here – alone." _All those memories, all those ghosts._

"I'm not alone, Dad. Not now. And Caroline and Joe were here." Marty nodded his head and they came forward. "They were always here for me."

"Thank you for looking after my boy." Jack held out his hand.

"It was my pleasure." Joe smiled at him. "He's not turned out too badly, has he?"

Caroline pushed him aside. "He's as proud as punch. Welcome back, Jack. Welcome home." She hugged him and for a moment Jack nearly lost control.

"Thank you. For everything," he whispered. For being there when I was not. For keeping all this together. "Thank you for loving him."

"He's our boy too," Caroline said softly. "In our hearts, at least."

JAck had always known that of course: he could remember the look in Caroline's eyes when she'd held his son as a tiny baby; he seen it in action when Joe had called on his loose team of international agents to bring Mikey back home, and that knowledge had made the long years of estrangement a little more bearable, knowing they were there after Christopher and Maryanne died. And now he was home again, home after all these years and nothing had changed. Except that everything had changed, and it had changed because of him. Jack was a realist, he knew that what was past could never be recovered. He'd blown his family apart and his surviving son was a virtual stranger who seemed to have a penchant for getting himself into life-threatening situations. A psychologist would have a field-day with that. Sure, Mikey Bradel was now Marty Deeks, but the same scared little boy was not too far beneath the surface and Jack would always bear the guilt.

"We thought it would be good to have a dinner party tonight," Marty was saying. "Just family. So you can all get to know each other."

"Family?" Jack wasn't sure he was quite ready to meet his brothers again. They had cast him off with rather unseemly haste.

"Close family. You and Rowena; me and Kensi; her Mom, Gibbs – the guy who's going to give her away. And Hetty." He looked anxiously at his father. "You okay with that?"

"I have no quarrel with Hetty. I went into things with my eyes wide open."

The front door opened and Kensi and Rowena came in, after taking a tactful tour of the gardens. If Rowena felt any unease at staying in the house her husband had lived in with his first wife, she did a remarkable job of disguising it. So there was a chance this might actually not be as bad as he'd feared, Marty thought. And there were a couple of things he wanted to say to everyone, things he'd been wanting to say for a long time. It had just been a matter of waiting for the right occasion. And tonight was definitely the night.

* * *

><p>"You look very smart, Jethro," Hetty said approvingly, as she ran an appraising eye over his formal black suit. "Most distinguished."<p>

"Can't let the side down. And you look stunning."

She was wearing a tailored suit made out of a dark brown shantung silk that matched her hair almost exactly, with a pair of brocade slippers and a scarf of iridescent oranges and gold tucked into her neck. A large cabochon-cut topaz brooch shimmered with brooding intensity on the shoulder and Hetty's eyes sparkled with excitement. "I didn't want to let the side down. It's been a long time since I was invited to a family dinner party. The last time I can recall, our Mr Deeks disappeared under the table as the coffee and ices were served and later emerged stark naked." She'd had a couple of glasses of sherry when she was getting dressed and it seemed to have gone straight to her head.

Gibbs just shook his head, crooked his arm invitingly and escorted her out of the house.

"He really was the most delightful child, you know," Hetty said conversationally as he opened the car door for her..

"So what happened?"

"He grew up, graduated in law, passed the California bar exam, joined the LAPD, came to work for me, met a beautiful girl and is getting married next week."

"I had to ask." Gibbs was smiling as he started the car.

"He's family, Jethro. The only family I have left. So let me be proud, won't you?"

"With pleasure. Here's something else to add to your list: he's not a bad surfer, even if he does take a few risks too many."

Hetty thought of all the accidents and injuries Marty had suffered, and the way he still had a tendency to be rather too headstrong. "It's somewhat of a family trait, I'm afraid," she said without the slightest trace of regret.


	45. Chapter 45

Caroline, bless her cotton socks, had not put Jack and Rowena in the master-suite he had shared with Maryanne for all those years: instead they were in another room on the opposite side of the hall. It felt good to be back, Jack realised, even if it was just for a visit, because it was enabling him to reclaim a part of his past he had thought was lost. This was no longer his home, but the memories were all around, growing stronger by the hour, but they no were no longer a source of pain. Tonight, the past seemed much closer than it had done for years as he tried to recall the last time he had slept under the same roof as his son. Jack had just finished putting the studs into his evening shirt when there was a knock at the door.

"Mind if I come in?" His son stood uneasily on the threshold. His grown-up son, who was going to get married in a few days time and who would hopefully live happily in this house, and perhaps one day would live here with his own children.

"Sure. I'm nearly ready." Jack picked up his bow tie and then looked in the mirror to discover that Marty had moved to stand beside him, so that they were looking at one another.

"Do you remember when I was a little kid and I used to love to come in here and watch you and Mom getting ready to go out?"

Jack smiled. "Oh, I do. You'd stand on seat of the toilet so you could watch me shave and ask if I'd teach you how to shave when you were older." He reached up and stroked the side of Marty's face lovingly, cupping his hand around the soft golden stubble. "Looks like nobody ever did show you how to use a razor, did they son?"

For an instant, Marty leaned into the embrace and then he put his hand on top of his father's. Two pairs of identical blue eyes met in the mirror. "I'm just lazy, I guess."

"You are so like your mother," Jack said quietly. "So very like her. Rowena thinks you look like me, but all I can see is Maryanne." His mind was running back again, back to the days before he ruined his son's life and he looked at the bow tie lying on the dressing table. There was so much he wanted to say to Marty, so much he had to explain, but time was running out.

"How about I help you with that?" He was taller now, so much taller, and there was no longer any need to stand on the dressing stool, but old habits died hard, so Marty put knelt one knee on it to steady himself as he looped the tie around his father's neck and began to create the knot, just as he had been taught all those long years ago. And as he worked, he breathed in the almost forgotten aroma of Jack's aftershave and the memories were so real he could almost reach out and touch them and so intense they almost took his breath away. If only he could find the words to tell his father how much he'd missed him, how he used to go into the bathroom and take down the bottle of aftershave that still stood on the shelf and use the scent to try to pretend that things were how they should be, how they used to be.

"Not bad." Jack looked at himself in the mirror and then turned around. "Not bad at all. I fucked up, but you turned out just fine." He patted Marty on the shoulder.

"Caroline might debate that."

"Caroline would disembowel anyone who dared to criticise you with a blunt teaspoon, as you very well know."

"It doesn't stop her from nagging me though. Especially about getting my hair cut."

"Mmm-hmm. She might have a point there, son. And you will be sure and shave before the wedding, won't you?"

"You might have to show me how, Dad. It's been a while."

"Heck, I'll even treat you to a razor. It's the least I can do."

They would probably never speak about all that had gone before, but gradually Jack and Marty were starting to reclaim all the lost years and the love that had gone unclaimed.

* * *

><p>The evening went perfectly, Kensi was relieved to see. It was her first time hosting a formal dinner party, but Caroline had held her hand every step of the way and the result was fabulous. The initial stilted conversation soon gave way to more relaxed chatter and before long Allison and Jack were vying to see who could provide the most embarrassing stories about their respective offspring.<p>

"I swear, if she tells the story about how I wasn't toilet trained until I was three and a half, I am going to stuff that napkin in her mouth." Kensi smiled sweetly across the table at her mother.

Marty tried hard not to choke at that. "It kind of puts my not being able to tie shoelaces until I was 12 into perspective, doesn't it?"

"Not really. I had a bashful bladder, that's all."

"You just keep telling yourself that honey, if it makes you feel good."

"How about we agree never to mention this again and you can still get to discover how good I feel?"

"That works for me. Okay, I think it's time." Looking down the table, he made sure that everyone had full glasses and stood up. There were few things Marty hated more than making speeches, but there was something he needed to say.

"Welcome everyone - and welcome home, Dad." He raised his glass and watched as his guests followed suit. "I've missed you so much, and to have you and Rowena here with us tonight is just the best wedding present you could have given me. So, thank you both for coming. And I wanted to give you this – to try to put right, in some small way, a wrong that was done a long time ago." Reaching inside his jacket, Marty pulled out an envelope and handed it to Jack, who was noticeably moved.

"What is this?" He opened the envelope and blanched. "No son, this is too much. And it's not necessary." Jack stared at the document which informed him he now held a 5% share in Brandel Brothers Technologies.

"I want to, Dad. I really wanted to. The uncles made you sign over everything to Mom, and I reckoned it was time you got a little bit back. So take it, will you? And maybe consider going to some of those board meetings in my place, will you? They really are too boring for words."

"Okay, you've got a deal."

Encouraged by the radiant look on Rowena's face, Marty took a sip of wine and then continued. "Okay, this next one is more difficult. It's kind of a present to myself, you see. As well as to Kensi, because I know it's something she's wanted me to do for a long time. And finally, this is also for Hetty, because she's been pretty patient with me. Even if I know sometimes she's wanted to smack some sense into me." He walked around the table until he was standing beside Hetty and then handed her a familiar set of papers. "So here you go – and if you've had second thoughts, please don't say anything tonight, okay? Because these are signed and sealed and now they are definitely delivered. Congratulations, Hetty – you've got just got yourself another agent."

Marty had often thought it would impossible to leave Hetty speechless, that she would always have the perfect repartee for any occasion, but he was wrong. She sat perfectly still, looking up at him with eyes that spoke volumes.

"You've joined NCIS? You've actually left LAPD and joined NCIS?" Kensi wondered if she was hearing correctly.

"Consider it my wedding present to you. I hope you like it."

"Like it? You couldn't have given me anything I wanted more." She didn't care that they were at the dinner table, surrounded by people, because Kensi wanted to kiss him more than she could say.

"It's taken you long enough, Marty," Hetty said tartly, having recovered her normal poise. "But then you always were a remarkably stubborn child. And if Miss Blye will put you down for a moment, perhaps you might give your aunt a kiss."

The last time he had kissed her, Marty had been small enough to sit on her knee and to follow her around adoringly. But the kiss was just as sweet as Hetty remembered. "You've made me very happy," she whispered. "But then you always did." She'd missed being part of a family more than she could ever say. Things were changing now; and the past and the present were no longer at odd with one another and there was a clear path leading to the future.

Everything is going to alright, Maryanne, just like I promised. I told you I'd look after your boy – and I have. And I'm going to keep right on doing that, whether he likes it or not. Hetty finished her wine and held out her glass for more. For once, she was damned well going to let her hair down to hell with the consequences. There was little point in being your own boss if you couldn't have the occasional day off sick, after all – even if the illness was self-inflicted.


	46. Chapter 46

"I can't believe you just did that!" Kensi lay sprawled face-down on the bed, and Marty lay supine on top of her.

"You said you wanted to," he protested.

"No, not that. And of course I did. I might even want to do it again." She wriggled deliciously as he nuzzled into her neck. "Oh don't do that. Not there." A shiver ran right down her body, from the top of her spine to the tips of her toes

Marty raised his head briefly. "I thought you liked it?"

"I do. I like it too much, that's the problem." Another frisson of pleasure pulsated through Kensi's body.

"That's not a problem." He nibbled gently on an earlobe.

"It is when you want to talk."

"You can talk and get turned on at the same time – you're a woman. I thought it was only men who couldn't multi-task."

"I want to talk, Marty." There was an insistent edge to her voice, one which he knew meant that Kensi was not about to give up.

"Do we have to?" But Marty already knew the answer. Reluctantly, he moved so that Kensi could turn over.

"That was really sweet of you." She looked at Marty, draped on top of her and propped up on his elbows, hair falling forwards and wondered how she ever ended here, ended up here, with him. It was like some dream, something that happened to other, prettier girls, the ones who went out with the quarterback and were invited to all the cool parties – not to Kensi Blye, the army brat.

"I'm a sweet guy." Marty let his finger trace around her nipple and smiled at the sharp intake of breath this provoked, and the way the flesh instantly tautened beneath his touch.

"Sure you are." Kensi stroked his butt lovingly. "What's that Ziva calls Tony? 'Sweetcheeks', that's it, isn't it? I might just start calling you that."

"You can call me anything you want." Bending his head, Marty licked her nipple and then blew gently, watching as Kensi's back arched involuntarily at the barrage of sensations.

"I'm not going to be distracted," she warned. "We're going to talk, whether you want to or not."

"How about you do the talking, and I'll do the loving?" Cupping her breast in his hand, he ran his tongue slowly around the areola and then began to suck.

"That is cheating. But don't stop." Kensi found it hard to concentrate on anything except the fact that he was sucking and tugging, nibbling and teasing and it felt amazing. Previous relationships had drifted into familiarity and then boredom but Marty always managed to make her feel as if every nerve ending in her body was receptive to his touch. "Harder. Do it harder," she urged and one hand moved to tangle in his hair, just to make sure.

"Like this?" Marty didn't even more his head, and at the same time Kensi eased her thighs apart and tilted her hips slightly so that he could just glide in, knowing she was so ready for him. With a convulsive movement, Kensi tightened, pulling him inside, feeling the joyful sensation of fullness and knowing the best was about to come. She pulled away slightly and then soared back down, meeting his upstroke with a precision and force that blew the breath out of her lungs even as Marty's head shot up and he moved his arms so that his hands were clasped above her head and they were staring into each other's eyes.

"You are. So absolutely. Fucking. Amazing." It was getting hard to talk, hard to think about anything except the way she made him feel like he could run up Mount Everest and then fly all the way on up to heaven. He would never get tired of watching the way her eyes went wild when she came, the way the shudders seem to ripple right through Kensi's body and into his own, so that just as she was starting to come back down from a crescendo he was peaking and taking her back up with him for a timeless moment of blank ecstasy before he sank bonelessly back down on top of her.

When Kensi eventually had enough strength to open her eyes, she saw the familiar sight of a dishevelled head propped on her shoulder. "You're pretty fucking amazing too," she whispered. "As well as pretty amazing at fucking." They could talk in the morning, she thought, letting her fingers run lazily through his hair and then drift down to caress the strong muscles of his back, loving the sweet intimacy of moments like this, when there were absolutely no barriers, no resistance at all, and they could just lie with tangled limbs and measure their breathing until it echoed in perfect harmony, until even their hearts seemed to beat in unison. Moments like these were paradise.

* * *

><p>Across the hall, Jack and Rowena sat at the window, looking out onto the moonlit garden.<p>

"Happy?" she asked softly, pulling his hand into her lap.

"More than I ever thought I could be. It's going to be alright, isn't it?"

She could see the boy he had once been in the wistful expression on his face. "It's going to be fine. You're both going to be fine."

"We were almost starting to connect, before dinner, you know. Just for a moment. There's all these memories I have – and then there's nothing, except all the years of not being in touch, watching him from the other side of the world and wanting to tell him how much I missed him, how much I loved him – and have always loved him."

"You did what you thought was best when you left prison. You let him have a clean break, be free to live his own life."

"What if I was wrong, Rowena? What if things could have been different?" _I should have come back when his mother died. I should have been there for him._

Rowena gathered him into her arms. "You can't go back. You know that, Jack. You have to accept that you made a choice and live with it. And you've still got a chance – that's more than a lot of people ever have. You can still make this work."

"If he lets me."

"Jack – will you wake up and smell the coffee? What more does the boy have to do to show you that he loves you? He invited you to be his best man, he gave you a 5% share in the company. What do you want him to do next – take out a front page ad in the LA Times?"

"You are so good, for me." He picked up her hand and kissed it. "What would I do without you?"

Rowena smiled. "Probably plague the life out of some other poor woman. Come on – it's getting late and we've had a long day."

"Do you think they're asleep?" Jack nodded to the bedroom door.

"Not a chance. DIdn't you see the way they kept looking at each other? There's not a chance they're just sleeping like babies. So why don't you show me how like that handsome son of yours you really are?"

It was an invitation he could not possibly refuse. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"That's what I keep asking myself." Rowena held out her hand. "Come on, Jack. Come to bed."

* * *

><p>"So?" Kensi looked questioningly over the rim of her coffee cup. "Let's talk."<p>

"How can I concentrate with you sitting there looking at me like that?"

"Haven't you ever heard that a good way to get rid of nerves is to imagine your audience naked?"

Marty blinked. "Yes, but you really are naked and you're sitting cross-legged on the bottom of my bed and it's kind of distracting."

"Concentrate." She smiled bewitchingly. "And then who knows what might happen?"

"It's kind of happening right now," he confessed. "And that makes it hard to think about anything else."

"Would a cold shower help you?"

"I'll manage. Somehow. So what did you want to talk about?"

"Enough with the innocent air. You signed the papers. And you didn't say a word. Not one word, Marty."

He shrugged. "Would you believe me if I said I wanted it to be a surprise?"

"Nope. Want to try again?"

"Okay." Marty leaned back against the pillows and looked down at his hands. "I was talking to Dad, just before dinner, and we were trying to connect, only it just wasn't quite working. We had the memories, but that was about all. There's this big gulf of all those empty years between us and I don't really know him at all – so it's up to me to change that. Because I think I need him in my life. And that was when I realised there was nothing holding me back any more. I didn't have any more excuses. So I signed the papers. Simple as that." He took a long swallow of coffee. "Happy now?"

"I've been happy since the day I first met Jason Wyler. Of course, there was a kind of blank period when you went off on that undercover op with LAPD – the one you never really talk about – but apart from that…" She looked enquiringly at him

Marty knew exactly what she was after, but felt he had already bared enough of his soul for one day. "Why do women always want to talk?"

"Because it's like sharing minds." Kensi unwound her legs and crawled up the bed. "Or would you rather share something else?"

"Now you're talking."

"Well, I figured I had to do something to say 'thank you' properly. Because that was probably the best wedding present you could have given me." Kensi pecked him on the lips and then sat back on her heels.

"That's all I get?"

"Not exactly. I was thinking we could christen that bath properly before you go off on your bachelor weekend. Just to remind you of everything you're going to be missing."


	47. Chapter 47

_and the bachelor weekend begins..._

* * *

><p>"I was thinking we could christen that bath properly before you go off on your bachelor weekend. Just to remind you of everything you're going to be missing."<p>

"And you're not going to be missing me when I'm away?" Marty managed a half-hearted pout, despite the fact he was still kissing her.

"Why would I? Have you seen the gorgeous male masseurs I've booked for us girls? And they wear nothing but tight white shorts. Heaven in pristine packaging. Hetty is going to freak." Kensi smirked happily.

"Hetty is going to be hung over. She put away a fair amount last night." Reluctantly, Marty pushed the bedcovers aside. "I'd better get going." There was still a lot to get ready, most important of which was stocking up on enough beer.

"You're skipping on the bath?" Kensi tried not to look to hurt as she watched him go towards the bathroom.

"Did I say that? Would I say that?" He paused in the doorway and looked enquiringly at her. Kensi looked at his butt and hurled herself off the bed and ran across the room.

"Have I ever told you how much I love watching you wander around naked?" She could still remember the night when she'd seen him walk out of this same bathroom wearing nothing but a towel… a pale blue towel. She'd loved him in pale blue ever since.

"Maybe once or twice. But you could tell me again?" Marty turned on the taps. "See how I got them cunningly positioned in the middle?"

"Very thoughtful of you."

"Self preservation. I nearly gave myself a concussion in the old bath. Or rather, you nearly gave me a concussion. You should warn me before you do something like that. I think I can still feel the dent in my skull. You really shouldn't be so rough with me."

"Can I help it if you drive me crazy?"

"Keep on talking like that and this whole bachelor weekend isn't going to happen."

"Maybe you could put on a pair of tighty-whities and give Hetty a brisk rub down?" Kensi suggested wickedly.

"Keep saying things like that and you are going to be one very disappointed, very frustrated lady. Because that image is not working for me. Not in the slightest."

* * *

><p>Timothy McGee was not a beach person. He never had been and he was pretty sure this weekend wasn't going to change anything. His own personal hell comprised a couple of vans containing a bunch of guys with surf boards, several crates of beer and Tony DiNozzo, complete with guitar. The guitar was giving him most cause for concern.<p>

"Does he actually play that thing?" he asked Gibbs.

"He thinks he does." Gibbs managed a smile. "Knows at least three chords."

"He sings, doesn't he?" There was a note of extreme despondency in Tim's voice.

"Oh yes." Gibbs shook his head. "Loudly."

Resting his head against the side window, Tim started to count off the hours until he was back home. He was bursting with all these ideas for his novel and although he'd put a notepad and pens in this backpack, somehow he couldn't see he would be getting much of a chance to use them.

"You're talking about me, aren't you?" DiNozzo leant forward and rested his arms on the back of their seats. "You going to treat us to the Marine Corps Hymn this weekend, Boss?"

Gibbs was feeling to mellow to even bother trying to give him a head slap. "How about you play _The Ride of The Valkyries_ while Deeks and I get some waves, DiNozzo?"

Stunned, Tony sat back in his seat and whistled appreciatively. "Nice reference in there, Boss. I'm impressed. _Apocalypse Now_. One of the great war movies. Or even one of the great anti-war movies. Classic scene, and with possibly one of the greatest lines of all time."

"Don't even think about saying it, you hear?"

Muttering something under his breath that may, or may not, have contained the word 'napalm', DiNozzo watched the scenery slip by and wondered if Ziva had been serious about trying to join them. He wouldn't put anything past her. And the thought of seeing her in a wetsuit was alluring to say the least. Alluring and tantalising… His fantasies occupied the rest of the journey in a highly satisfying way.

The beach looked, to Tim's unpractised eyes, just like any other beach: sand and sea. With some pretty big waves, that broke far out and then came thundering in to shore. That settled it: he wasn't going out there. He didn't care what anyone said. And he certainly wasn't putting on one of those wetsuits.

"Go on then." Gibbs reached behind his back and pulled up the zipper, feeling the fabric of his suit cling tightly to his body in a familiar way that started his pulse to quicken in anticipation. There was nothing like testing yourself against the elemental power of the ocean. People often underrated surfers, not realising that no wave could be predicted with any real accuracy, that the difference between a great ride and an ignominious wipe-out was as much about judgement as it was about skill. Not to mention nerves. Surfing wasn't for the faint-hearted. At least, not on a beach like this. He nodded to Deeks. "You take the first wave. You've earned it."

Deeks shook his head. "No, you come out with me. It's more fun that way."

It didn't take any more than that to convince Gibbs. He'd realised how much he missed surfing, the way it challenged him and freed him at the same time. It was the perfect escape from life, and yet it was life at the same time. He'd been a fool to ever stop surfing. But it wasn't too late. It was never too late for anything – as long as you were willing to take a few risks. "So what are we waiting for?"

"Surf's up!" Deeks cried joyfully and grabbed his board.

Tim sat down on the sand, pulled off his shoes and watched them lope down the beach and start wading into the water. His heart yearned slightly, wishing he could join them, could really push his body and his mind to those sort of limits, but he was realistic – he knew his limitations. And reckless endangerment was way out of his league.

"They're idiots – you do know that, don't you?" DiNozzo settled himself comfortably and offered him a beer. "But it's kind of impressive, don't you think? Man against the ocean and all that sort of thing." He watched as the two men lay down on the boards and started to paddle out.

"I would have thought that kind of thing would have been right up your street." Tim was confused: Tony would normally go to any lengths before admitting a weakness or an inability to do just about anything.

"Not in surf like this. Too risky. Of course, they'll just see it as a challenge." He put on his sunglasses and stared out across the ocean. "My surfing is strictly amateur and for pleasure only. They're different – they've got this whole 'lure of the ocean' vibe going on. It's like a vocation to them. And a challenge."

"You're probably right." He could relate – in a way. It was just that Tim found his challenges on a blank piece of paper. "Tony, is it my imagination, or is that wave huge?"

"It's a monster." DiNozzo sat up straight and watched as they started to paddle faster, and then held his breath as the wave seemed to grow in intensity. "Basically, surfers are stupid bastards with a death wish, Tim. Most of them have pretty cool hair though." Deeks was doing all this fancy-ass stuff, cutting across the path of the wave and even managing to steer a course through the tube created as it started to break almost on top of his head. It looked great and it probably felt amazing to actually do something like that, but it was also pushing things pretty far.

"What about Gibbs?"

"Yes, well he's the exception that proves the rule. Only he writes the rules in the first place." He was relieved to see that Gibbs wasn't quite as reckless as Deeks, although he was pushing his own ride with everything he had. "How about we go collect us some firewood? It's going to get cold tonight." His beer was finished now and both men were safely back in the shallows, laughing and slapping hands and preparing to do it all over again. Gibbs seemed like a different person when he was by the ocean, DiNozzo realised. He seemed almost human.


	48. Chapter 48

"You guys not coming in?" one of Deeks' friends asked as he passed by on his way down the beach. He was almost the archetype of a surfer dude, but actually turned out to be doctor specialising in childhood cancers.

"Not just yet," Tim confirmed.

"You should have at least one ride. This beach is legendary – it's like Mount Everest for surfers, or maybe forbidden fruit."

DiNozzo recalled this next man saying that he worked for an aid-relief charity in famine-struck countries. "We'll see you later." Someone had to watch, after all. So he and Tim wandered along the beach, chatting idly and casting the occasional glimpse out to the ocean where the men were vying for the best ride in, with even Gibbs throwing caution to the winds and taking some changes, most of which paid off.

"You reckon we're going to be able to bring him back to Kensi in one piece?" Callen asked curiously, watching as Deeks started doing free-style moves with his friends and then got wiped out spectacularly.

Sam held his breath until a familiar head surfaced. "I hope so. He might be a bit water logged though."

"We're going to have to make a token effort, you know." Callen looked out at the ocean with considerable disgust. "At least get our feet wet, for appearances' sake, if nothing else. And you've got your reputation to keep up, after all."

"Being a SEAL doesn't automatically mean you love the ocean, you know." There was more than a hint of defensiveness in Sam's voice.

"Your secret's safe with me. And there's nothing to be ashamed of in not being able to swim."

"I can swim, G – and you know that. I just couldn't swim until I was an adult. I can probably swim better than you can."

"Really? You want to put that to the test?" Callen scanned the ocean attentively. "How about we go out to that buoy and back? Running start from here and first man back wins?" His competitive spirit was well and truly aroused.

"You're on."

Di Nozzo groaned as two figures went pelting down the beach, neck and neck, clearly vying for supremacy. "What is it with these guys and their need to engage in manly pursuits?"

"It's California, I guess." Tim was under no illusions: Tony had been a good deal of a jock in his time. Clearly he was sticking to his side for a reason. "Did Gibbs ask you to stay with me?"

"No." DiNozzo paused. "Ziva did. She's worried about you."

"There's no need. I'm fine. Really, I am." And the funny thing was that he actually was. Maybe being out here, looking at the vastness of the ocean had helped to put things into perspective. Perhaps it was realising there were some things you could never truly master, so that you simply had to try your best and use the skills you had = but even so, you would still sometimes fail. Maybe he had to learn to surf through life – riding on top of the wave, and just accept that sometimes the wave would win. Tim walked slowly along the beach, turning over the various pieces of the puzzle that was Operation Frankenstein over in his head. The solution had to be there somewhere. Maybe he'd been concentrating on the fine detail too much? He resolved that on Monday morning he'd start afresh.

* * *

><p>"I think I've died and gone to heaven." After a reflexology treatment and a pedicure, Nico was almost at the stage where she felt human again. She waved her foot in the air, just grateful she could still see her toes, although any day now and her bump was going to obscured the view completely.<p>

"It was an inspired idea, Kensi." Denise was just grateful that Caroline had whisked baby Callie away, insisting that Denise needed some time to relax and, most of all, some time away from the baby. Callie was a placid child, but even so, Denise felt as if she was running on empty

"We all need a little pampering." Kensi had been experimenting with different hairstyles for the wedding and was still undecided. "What do you think?"

"It's very sophisticated," Denise said uncertainly.

"You don't look like yourself." Nico shrugged. "You look gorgeous, but you don't look like Kensi."

"I knew it." She pulled out the pins securing the braided coronal in place and shook her hair free. "I'm trying too hard here, aren't I?"

"Probably. You want to actually try to enjoy your wedding, Kensi."

"Did you enjoy yours?" she asked curiously.

Denise shook her head emphatically. "Hell no. I was so worried the whole time that something was going to go wrong. It was a relief when everything was finally over." She looked across at Nico. "You taking down notes, honey?"

"I'm storing it all away for future reference, don't you worry."

"Kensi – make sure the day is about you and Marty. Don't worry about what anyone else thinks or says. It's none of their business. You do what you want – it's your party, after all. Now, go drink a glass of champagne and relax a little, will you?"

Across the room, Allison, Hetty and Rowena were watching the younger women.

"I don't think I've ever seen Ms Blye quite so nervous before. Not even before a mission."

"She's very intense, isn't she?" Rowena observed. "Whereas Marty is almost the exact opposite."

"He has his moments, believe you me," Hetty said drily.

Allison sighed. "You think I've been too hard on him, don't you?"

"I really wouldn't know," Rowena said with characteristic British reserve. "Were you?"

"Does any mother ever think any man is good enough for her daughter? And I know you've got a vested interest here, Rowena."

"I don't. Not really. I've only met him a few times, and he and Jack are virtual strangers, bound only together by the past. They've still got to decide if they can build a future together. But it strikes me – as an outsider, of course – that your daughter and my step-son love each other. I don't think I've ever seen two people quite as much in love."

"Sometimes love isn't enough." Allison knew Kensi saw her late father through rose coloured glasses and there was no point in disillusioning her. That would only be cruel.

Rowena smiled. "Sometimes it's all that matters."

"But what is life without love?" Hetty asked, turning her gimlet-sharp glare on Allison. "Why else do we want to keep on living – except that we hope to find love? And before you say anything – I do have a vested interest. I have a vested interest in both of them, and most especially in their future together." _I may not be a parent, but I know what it is to worry. I worry every single time I send any of my agents out on a mission. I am responsible for them and I literally hold their lives in my hands._

"I've not exactly given up hope in the future myself," Allison admitted. She hadn't been looking for love, but now it seemed as if it might be on the horizon again. And she had none other than Marty to thank for that.

"To love," Rowena said and raised her glass. "Wherever we find it."

* * *

><p>"Who won?" Marty asked, looking at Callen and Sam and lying in twin heaps on the sand, both in similar states of exhaustion.<p>

"I did." Sam managed to raise his head briefly and then let it drop down again.

"You cheated," Callen wheezed. "You tripped me up."

"You fell over your own feet. Maybe you should get tested for bifocals?"

"Maybe we should get something to eat? I can see Dad and Joe bringing supplies." Marty went off, leaving them to enjoy their habitual banter. It was rather like non-sexual foreplay.

"You having fun, kid?" Jack looked at his son, happy and relaxed and clearly enjoying life. "You looked pretty good out there. You also looked like you were taking a lot of chances." It was difficult coming to terms with the sort of things his son did for a living – like shooting people for starters. Why couldn't he just have stuck with the law? You didn't need to wear body armour if you were a lawyer.

"You've got to take chances, dad – that's how you know you're still alive." Marty looked at the baskets hungrily. There was nothing like surfing to work up an appetite.

"Caroline's put on her normal spread, don't you worry. There's enough here to see you all through till morning." Joe put the second basket down on the sand.

"Why don't you stay – both of you?"

"You don't want us here, cramping your style."

"Actually, I do. I want that very much. This isn't your regular bachelor party anyway."

"Maybe just for a little while then." Jack watched as Marty flashed a brief grin and then pulled down the zip of his wetsuit and started to peel it off. "What happened there?"

"These?" Marty fingered the scars on the right-hand side of his chest. "I got shot a while back. It was okay – low calibre-bullets."

Jack shook his head, wondering how he could dismiss something like that so easily.

"I'm fine, Dad – absolutely fine. Really." Marty touched his father's forearm briefly and then went down to call the surfers back in.

"He makes light of it now, but he was pretty shaken up at the time," Joe said in an undertone. "marty was targeted as a way of getting to Kensi. They know what they're doing, Jack. Really, they do. These guys work as a team and they've always got each other's backs. You don't have to worry."

"That's easy to say. I suppose you sleep easily at nights when he's out working a case?"

"Touche. Of course I don't."

"Why can't he just go work for the company? A nice, safe desk job?" Jack knew there was no chance of that happening

"Maybe the same reason you took on the assignment for the Government back in the 80s, Jack? Marty's a lot like you. He needs some excitement in his life."

"He's going to get that with Kensi, isn't he? She'll keep him on his toes."

"They keep each other dancing, Jack."

By mid-evening, when the stars were high in the night sky, a small group of men sat around a bonfire, drinking beer. Tony wasn't actually as bad on the guitar as everyone had feared, and one of marty's friends was even better. The clear notes rang out through the night, accompanied by the regular sound of waves breaking upon the sand, the timeless ebb and flow of the ocean that had punctuated evenings since the dawn of time.

"Come on, Joe – sing for us," Marty begged.

"You don't want to hear the songs an old man knows," Joe protested.

"Don't make me beg. Come on – sing for me one last time, while I'm still a free man."

"You'll be a dead man if Kensi hears you talking like that," Sam said as he watched Joe walk around the fire to the guitarist and exchange a few words. A simple melody began and as Joe began to sing, all conversation ceased.

_The water is wide, I can't cross o'er._

_And neither have I the wings to fly._

_Build me a boat that can carry two,_

_And both shall row, my true love and I._

Joe's voice was calm and sure, and the notes were clear and true. The familiar words had never seemed quite so apt to the small group of men sitting around the fire and they chimed a note with all of them. Gibbs thought of all the many boats he had built, and which he had never sailed, for the simple reason that there had never been anyone he to sail with – not anyone who mattered. And he thought of how that might all be about to change, just when he had least expected it. Jack thought of all wide Atlantic miles that had separated him from his old-life for over a decade and hoped he was now sailing on calmer waters, with the help of Rowena's steady hand on the tiller. And Marty thought of Kensi and as he did so, he looked up at the stars and he smiled.

Long years afterwards, he would remember that night, that song and the fact that at last his life was lying in front of him in a sure, straight path, shining with promise, like a road to the stars.

* * *

><p><em>Slushy plot bunny says that everyone should have the memory of at least one night spent sitting out under the stars, watching a fire burn and singing songs in the dark. And I agree!<em>


	49. Chapter 49

"Okay, there's something very wrong with this picture." Callen looked at the empty desk next his and then cast his gaze around the Mission. "We've only got half of the love's young dream team. Tell me - what's Densi without Kensi, Sam?"

"That would be 'D'. Which is a failing grade by anyone's standards."

"Very funny. My sides are splitting." Deeks dumped his messenger bag on the floor. "I think Hetty felt sorry for her, because she told Kensi to take the rest of the week off. Mainly because she's got about a million and one things to do before the wedding, so she's not thinking straight." Kensi had seemed marginally less stressed after her bachelorette spa day, but that wasn't exactly saying much.

"If Kensi had been thinking straight, she wouldn't be marrying you, Deeks."

Switching on his laptop, Deeks gave them a jaded look. "God, you guys are hilarious. You crack me up. But listen, Kensi's not the only one who's stressing out here. So just give me a break will you?" There was a note of despondency in his voice.

"You were the one who said getting married was just like having a big party," Callen reminded him.

"So I was wrong? So sue me." IT was very tempting to hit his head off the desk. "And it's not the reception that's bothering me. It's all the other stuff. Like this is the biggest decision you can ever make. And marriage is a holy sacrament."

The teasing stopped. "You're not having second thoughts?" Sam was hovering behind his chair, concern written clearly on his face. "Kensi's not thinking about calling it all off, is she?"

"Of course I'm not. It's just… I don't know." Deeks buried his head in his hands.

"I think the word you're looking for is 'grown up'," Callen said kindly. "It had to happen sometime." He patted him on the shoulder consolingly.

"Technically, that's two words."

Callen glared at him. "Stop being picky, Deeks. We're bonding with you. Treasure the moment, because it won't happen again for a long time."

"If ever." Sam tousled his hair. "And get a damn hair cut before the wedding or I'll come over with the clippers. Even your dog looks smarter than you do."

"The canine beautician's coming over today." Deeks raised his head and looked at them sorrowfully. "Kensi insisted." It appeared that absolutely everything had to be perfect, down to clipping the dog's nails. He had a sneaking suspicion Bobby would never forgive him.

"You should have played hookey and Kensi could have got you done at the same time. That should be worth a discount. And I can just see you and Bobby with matching hair-styles. Only he'll probably look smarter."

"Gentlemen. How nice to see you all looking so relaxed after the weekend. Except for you, Agent Deeks. You look a trifle overwhelmed."

"Agent?" Sam looked stunned. "You been holding out on us, Deeks?"

"After we let you into our brotherly bond? Shame on you." Callen swatted him on the back of the head, having learned a thing or two from Gibbs.

"It was my present to Kensi." Deeks caught sight of the look on Hetty's face. "And Hetty too, of course."

"And?" Hetty prompted.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "And because I wanted to."

"Three for the price of one. Nice going, Deeks. It took you long enough."

"Three for no price at all, Sam. That has to be the cheapest wedding present ever. No wonder he's so rich – he doesn't spend any money."

"Kensi loved it," Deeks protested.

"Sure she did."

Hetty decided it was time to wade into the fray. "Ms Blye was truly delighted, gentlemen. As indeed was I."

"And I haven't noticed either of you appearing at the house bearing wedding gifts either," Deeks pointed out. "It's kin of this custom we have in the US – you get a wedding invitation – you buy a present."

"That's because we haven't decided on the right wedding present yet." Actually, that was the complete truth, Sam thought. After all, what did you get for a guy who could buy the entire contents of a department store without batting an eye? Especially on a federal agent's salary.

"Yeah – go tell that to the Marines, why don't you?" Deeks looked at Hetty and immediately regretted the words. "Please tell me there isn't another dead Marine?" _Not when I'm getting married on Saturday. Not when we've still got Operation Frankenstein to wrap up. And a seating arrangement for the meal to agree. A buffet would have been so much simpler. Or a wedding planner. Why didn't I insist we hired a wedding planner?_

"There's always a dead Marine. And another one after that. " Callen had lost count of the death toll many years ago.

"Not this time. For once, I have good news: Mr Beale and Mr McGee have been working all night. They think they're getting close to solving the final riddle of Operation Frankenstein. With a little help from Dr Getz."

"Nate? Since when did Nate become a computer expert?"

"Dr Getz has many talents, including being a good listener, Mr Hannah."

This was getting officially weird. Deeks definitely wished he'd stayed at home. "Nate psycho-analysed them into solving the case?" he suggested lamely, feeling that some sort of response was required.

"Don't be silly, Mr Deeks. Of course he didn't."

"He freed up their unconscious minds?" Sam suggested. "Tapped into their subconscious?" That earned himself a withering look.

"You've either been reading too much science-fiction or watching one of those daytime soap operas."

Callen decided not to say anything. It seemed safer that way. After all, why subject yourself to ridicule when your colleagues were doing that very nicely all by themselves? So he just gave Hetty an interested look that invited further revelations. It worked very nicely indeed and meant that he retained a modicum of dignity. Someone had to, after all.

"Dr Getz arranged for Ms Barrett to be brought back to this country and he's been endeavouring to find some way to break this catatonic trance all our suspects share."

"Nate's got through? He's managed to make her speak?" Callen couldn't believe his ears. At last it looked like they were getting the break they needed. It had been long enough coming.

"Sadly, no." Hetty would like to be in a position to throw the book at EJ - very large, very heavy legal book. But there was no way she could be brought to trial. "It appears that the initial stages of the Operation Frankenstein consisted of deep-programme, aimed at the subconscious mind. In essence, it worked to install an automatic shutdown in the subjects when they perceived their status as operatives was in danger. It was a particularly invidious form of 'failsafe', deeply conditioned into the human brain and most certainly against every code and convention subscribed to by civilised countries. Dr Getz informs me it is unlikely that Ms Barrett will ever return to a normal functioning state and that she will require hospital treatment for the rest of her life." There was no mistaking the loathing in Hetty's voice.

Even in his darkest dreams, Callen had not wished such a fate on EJ. She was amoral and ambitious, but she had also been propelled into a situation that was out-with her control, and she had been pushed there by her uncle, the erstwhile SecNav, who had abused his own power in order to place EJ at the heart of NCIS. It hadn't worked out quite as he'd planned, given that Operation Frankenstein was now in tatters, EJ wasn't doing a whole lot of anything other than staring into space vacantly, and the former SecNav himself was now in maximum security detention.

"They brainwashed them?" Deeks shook his head in disbelief. "Brainwashed them so that they go into this living death?"

"It appears so."

Sam tried to process the information. He'd seen human atrocities at first-hand, but mainly under war conditions, when the normal rules of life were suspended. To think of such things being perpetrated against American citizens by those placed in positions of authority was not something he had ever contemplated. The only possible salvation was that Operation Frankenstein had been shrouded in such secrecy simply because those in control knew the central premise was so depraved it would never get approval.

"You want to give us the good news now?" he asked. "Because I think we could all do with that right now. And it would probably be the present anyone could give Kensi and Deeks." It was hard to forget that EJ had burnt down Jack and Rowena's home, and had nearly managed to immolate them all in the process.

"Dr Getz brought EJ to the Mission yesterday, and while she gave not the slightest flicker of a response, the transmitter implanted in her arm certainly did."

It had done more that than. It had created an automatic logon that replicated the information generated by an RSA SecurID logon device – the device that all government and military official used to access their networks. The same device that Nell referred to as her VPN token, and which had been breached at least once before – and had resulted in her arrest. And when Tim and Eric had seen the results, they were finally able to put the final pieces of the puzzle together. The end was almost in sight.

* * *

><p><em>Yes - we're nearly at the resolution, folks! one more chapter to go and all will be revealed. Devious plot bunny is quite exhausted by the ramifications of Operation Frankenstein.<em>

_I've got a busy couple of weeks ahead of me, with two cases coming up in court, so please be patient, as I might not be able to update as regularly as I'd like._


	50. Chapter 50

_A nice long chunk to finish up with!_

_Huge thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing - you make me want to keep on writing._

* * *

><p>Tim McGee came jogging down the steps, the huge smile on his face belying the fact he'd been up for over 36 hours and had worked straight through the night. "I'm just going out for coffee and then we'll be ready to give you the full-run down. Any orders?"<p>

Callen grabbed a Post-It note and began to scrawl down requests, while Hetty contacted the missing members of the two teams and called them back in. This was something they all needed to hear.

"You're buying?" Sam asked, wondering if he dared ask for a pastry and a breakfast burrito.

"I'm buying," Tim confirmed, deciding to get himself a red-eye. Normally he preferred his coffee not to have to high a caffeine content, but today was different. Today he had made possibly the most valuable contribution of his working life. Today, the team of Beale and McGee had done it, they'd broken through a mystery that had been puzzling the IT world for months and finally solved Operation Frankenstein. And if that didn't quality for an extra jolt of caffeine, he didn't know what did.

* * *

><p>They had worked all night, analysing the data, revisiting the facts, trying to make some sense of things. Time ceased to have any meaning at all and the only time they took a break was through absolute necessity, diving out to the men's room and then rushing back. Fuelled by adrenalin and the desperate need to "That breach back in March," Tim said slowly, his outward calm belying the fact his mind was racing. The IT world had been rocked to its core by the announcements from RSA that an integral part of secure logons had experienced a monumental breach. US national security had been a hair's breadth away from disaster. Everyone with access to secure servers used that technology to verify their credentials as the first stage of getting access.<p>

"Don't remind me." Eric shook his head at the memory: with a possible compromise to the NCIS systems, he'd been working overtime for weeks. "Commonly reckoned to be coming from China. Nobody was willing to speculate – officially, at any rate – that it might have been state-sponsored."

"Maybe it was. Only by rogue agents working within the US." The ramifications were growing worse. "What if that was just the test-run?"

"Some test." Eric thought of the chaos that had resulted, with every single system being tested for possible unauthorised entry. The hack had proven that the seed data within existing SecureID tags had been breached, but the encryption logins provided an additional layer of security. Nevertheless, thousands of new tokens had been issued, at massive cost to the company. "But it showed it could be done. And it diverted attention, didn't it? Everyone was so busy looking for the original breach and plugging the hole, we weren't looking at what was happening right in our own backyard." Crap, that had been sneaky: everyone had been so worried about identifying any previous breach and mindful of the ongoing threat to remote operated drones being used by troops, they hadn't thought that this could all be a ruse, possibly the biggest hoax ever perpetrated on the security services. And that had provided an open door…

"And meanwhile, Operation Frankenstein was moving into high gear. The original chip we recovered was just a prototype. If we're right, then the one implanted in EJ is the newest version. With some major modifications." Ones that circumvented the normal controls and allowed a user to hijack an identity without requiring any of the normal encryption codes that controlled access. The new chip allowed a user to breeze into the most secure systems in the world without alerting anyone.

"Whoever did this, they were good. I couldn't do that sort of programming – could you?" It was sheer genius, allowing remote access under the guise of an authorised user – because it over-rode the protocols and fooled the system into believing all the correct logins and verifications had been successfully completed.

"Given it would never occur to me, probably not." Tim still felt a vague frisson of unease whenever he illegally authorised another system, even when doing so under direct orders (usually from Gibbs, who had a somewhat cavalier attitude to such things) and with due cause. He'd never have had the nerves of steel to perpetrate a major hack, although he had good reason to believe that Eric did not share his scruples. This was the guy who had 'broken' the internet, after all and who was a legend in his own lunchtime.

"I'll get hold of Hetty. We need to get that chip fully analysed before we can start to put new protocols into place." Eric's fingers were flying over the keyboard as he sent out a series of alerts. It wasn't too late: the stable door might well be open, but the horse was still secure in its stall, the only mistake had been trying to implicate Nell. Without that, things could have been a whole lot worse. If it had been anyone but Nell, then there was no way he would have worked so long or so hard to try to get to the bottom of things, to find the root cause. And that didn't bear thinking about. They were getting out of this by the skin of their teeth and it could so easily have all gone wrong. The consequences of failure did not bear contemplating. "Nice work, partner."

"Any time. I couldn't have done it without you. We make a good team." Tim stood up and stretched: it had been a long night and his muscles felt as if they were locked into place. "How about I go get us some coffee?"

"Sounds good. There's a great place a few blocks away that does amazing donuts." All of a sudden, Eric was aware that he was starving.

"You want donuts? I'll even buy you one with sprinkles on top." Tim was feeling in an expansive mood. And besides which, he could do some with some fresh air, after being cooped up in Ops for over 12 hours. Sunshine and sea breezes sounded amazing. What was the point in being in California if you couldn't take full advantage of the climate?

* * *

><p>"This better be good," Kensi said grumpily, only too aware that there were at least six rollers in her hair. "Because I was mid-way through an appointment with my hairdresser." She patted the top of her head self-consciously and treated her team-mates to a look that suggested that even a single throw-away remark would be one comment too many.<p>

Nell beckoned her over. "Let me sort that out for you." It was disconcerting to see how good Kensi looked even when she wasn't at her best.

"I think you'll want to hear this, Ms Blye. And then you can enjoy your honeymoon in the sure and certain knowledge that Operation Frankenstein has finally been ended."

"Plus McGee's getting us all coffee and snacks," Tony added. "Any occasion where he volunteers to spend money has to be celebrated."

"It's really over?" Kensi let Nell carefully unwind her hair from the rollers and then shook the resulting curls free, hoping she didn't bear too close a resemblance to Medusa, although she was none too sanguine. Marty looked at the riot of waves and tried not to think about how amazing they would look tumbling down her bare back… and he was at work. He had to concentrate.

"All over bar the shouting – and the final denouement. You dno't want to deny Eric and Tim their moment in the sun, do you? Plus there's the small matter of tidying things up, sending out alerts – and the paperwork." Marty had a nasty feeling that was going to take at least a couple of days. Still, it was better than starting a new op right before the wedding.

"So what are we waiting for?" If they got this over quickly enough, Kensi reckoned she might still make the appointment with the caterer; which was followed by a meeting with the florist. And then that left only a trip to the dress designer and then she just had to check to make sure the marquee was going in the right place and that the dog groomer had done something to Bobby so that he no longer resembled a perambulating and rather smelly haystack. But once all that was done, she could collapse in a gibbering heap. Next time, she was definitely hiring a wedding planner. Except there wouldn't be a next time. This was it. This was definitely it – the once and forever. Kensi had no doubts about that at all.

"Not what – who." Gibbs looked at his watch impatiently. The mere mention of the word 'coffee' and he was practically pacing the floor. It would be good to have this mess finally finished, he thought. Apart from anything else, it would mean he could take Allison Blye for that moonlight drive with a clear conscience. And who knew what would happen after that? "How long does it take to get a couple of cups of coffee?"

DiNozzo refrained from pointing out that McGee was actually getting coffee for eleven people. Somehow, it didn't seem to be either the time or the place. If they got things tidied up here, then maybe he and Ziva could go to Magic Mountain tomorrow? A few hours spent getting scared out their wits on rollercoasters seemed the ideal way to unwind.

"Maybe he needs a hand?" Ziva suggested, pulling out her cell and firing off a quick text.

"Yeah – getting that wallet of his open. It doesn't often see the light of day."

Marty got to his feet and looked at Kensi. "How about we go find McGee? Just in case he's got lost." And that way they could have a few moments together and he could tell her how gorgeous she looked and how he couldn't wait to be married to her.

Eric was leaning against one of the old, whitewashed wall, face tilted up to the sun and trying to resist the temptation to jump up and down with joy.

"Don't let Hetty see that," Marty cautioned as they passed by, catching a whiff of the distinctive aroma coming from the cigarette.

"Leave him alone – he's got to come down from that high sooner or later. Nice work, by the way." Kensi flashed a quick grin at Eric and then lengthened her stride as her partner marched ahead. "Slow down, will you?"

"Coffee," Marty said succinctly. "It's like a siren cry, pulling me forward."

Outside the walls of the Mission complex, the world was carrying on as normal; all the people going about their daily lives, with no idea of what went on in the apparently derelict building and little comprehension that one of the biggest potential invasions into national security had just been averted. It was probably best that way. There would be no announcements, no public commendations, but that was never the point. The greatest glory was in knowing that they'd all worked together, had worked for months to get to this point. Every single person had played their part and ultimately, they had triumphed as a team. Together they had splintered Operation Frankenstein into a thousand fragments and now the world could continue on its self-absorbed pace in safety for another few days. Until the next threat. And there was always another threat, another danger. You could never let your guard slip for one second.

Kensi spotted Tim walking slowly along the sidewalk, trying to balance the trays of coffee at the same time as holding onto a large carrier full of pastries, and waved at him, getting a joyful grin in response. The traffic was light and he stepped onto the crossing, oblivious to the fact that just around the corner a light coloured car had been waiting for just this moment. The driver accelerated rapidly and Tim jumped to one side, as the coffee went flying in one direction and the bag of pastries in another. He never saw the gun pointing out of the window, but he did hear the sharp retort as it fired three times in quick succession and he most certainly felt the bullets hit his body as he crashed down onto the road.

Staring up at the sky, Timothy McGee noticed that there was not one single cloud to mar the clear cerulean blue. It was another perfect California day, he thought and wondered vaguely if the leaves were turning into a vibrant medley of autumnal hues back east in Washington. It was funny, but he felt no pain, no pain at all. That was strange, because you would have thought that getting shot at close range would hurt like hell. He closed his eyes in resignation.

"Hang on, McGee."

That was Deeks' voice, Tim realised and he opened his eyes to see Deeks in extreme close up, bending over him and with the most curious look on his face.

"Tell the boss… " Tim was finding it hard to concentrate and even harder to speak. "Tell him I'm sorry… I spilt his coffee." Nothing was more likely to piss Gibbs off and Tim had the very definite feeling that he'd really messed up this time. And it had been such a great day. He really didn't want it to end like this.

"You can apologise later." Gibbs said, squatting down in the road and gripping onto his agent's hand firmly, determined that he was not going to let another life slip through his fingers.

It was a struggle, because the edges of his consciousness were starting to contract into darkness, but Tim managed to look up at Gibbs. "Thanks, boss. Thanks for everything. It's been so great."

And it had been, he realised. All the earlier doubts were gone and Tim realised the best years of his life had been spent with Gibbs and his team. Despite everything, he wouldn't change a single thing. Except maybe for the small matter of dying on a road in Santa Monica. That really wasn't so great. But everything had to end at some point, whether you were ready or not. You could only cheat fate for a finite amount of time after all. What mattered was that you were ready when the end came.

"Don't you dare die on me, McGee." Gibbs was shouting now and Tim wanted to tell him that it wasn't so bad, it didn't hurt at all, but it was no use. He was ready now, so he closed his eyes and surrendered. And it felt so easy and so very right, almost like it was meant to be.

**The End**

To be continued in

_Such Great Heights_

* * *

><p><em>I hope you enjoyed reading the eighth instalment in my KD universe, because it's been a blast writing it. It will continue, because we haven't even got to the wedding yet! Not to mention there is the small matter of poor McGee left lying in the road. Blame evil plot bunny for that, not me… I am a mere pawn in his twisted little paws._

_The hack into the RSA seed data that the SecureID logon devices use really did happen earlier this year. Some things even devious plot bunny cannot make up. All the rest is pure imagination and speculation, of course. But stranger things have happened. _


End file.
